


Harry Potter and the Vanguards of Magic

by DorianD



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ancestry reveal, And the other ships, Better Snape, Bigotry, But still with a wand, Current technology at Hogwarts, Deathly Hallows, Eventual Harry/Neville, Good Dursleys, Harry is raised right, Horcruxes, Kind of like -A in PLL only without the death threaths, M/M, Magical heirs, Modern Hogwarts, More trusting Dumbledore, Muggleborn discoveries, Mysterious person that knows everything somehow, Secrets and Mistery, Series timeline moved 20 years into the future, Slightly Politics, So Harry is born on July 31st 2000, Wandless Magic, Will follow all books, Wizards can use electronic devices, all over, animagus forms, it's complicated - Freeform, just read it, pop-culture references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2018-04-09 18:51:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 300,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4360376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DorianD/pseuds/DorianD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Forty years before the start of the series, one Ravenclaw student decided that she will bring muggle technology into the wizarding world, by force if needed.<br/>Today, Harry enters a world of magic and... social media and texting, apparently. Kind of takes away from the fantasy. Wizards and witches started to use electronics in areas of magic, making the world a much easier place to be in. But while Harry and his friends concern themselves with their studies and homework, there are people who would still plunge the wizarding world into the Dark Ages, namely pure-blood supremacists. On top of that, Harry must deal with being the Boy-Who-Lived and all that title brings. Voldemort may be gone, but not forever. But Hogwarts will always help those who deserve it, sometimes in ways no one can foresee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Letter

**Author's Note:**

> So I finally decided to make a Harry Potter fanfic, and this is the result. I will try to avoid some cliches and utilise others better than most. This series has been moved twenty years into the future, as it stands Harry is born in 2000, rather than 1980, so he goes to Hogwarts during 2011-2017. I needed to do that FOR SCIENCE. (okay, actually for smartphones, but I digress)  
> Everyone wants Wi-Fi at Hogwarts, but I've yet to find a fic that has that. So, I made my own. I will try to cover all the books, there will be some canon, and there won't be some canon.  
> I do not own Harry Potter, J.K. does. I am doing this only for fun.  
> UPDATE: I will try and post chapters regularly, every week on Friday. I am doing this because I want to have the time to write the next chapters beforehand.

 

            The night grew silent as the man walked down the street. There was no living soul in sight, save for the cat standing under a street light, as if waiting patiently for something to happen. If someone were to look at the cat, they would be unnerved by its posture, as no one could say the last time an ordinary cat stood so stiffly. The man continued his walk calmly, as he reached in to one of the pockets of his strange clothing and pulled something like a silver lighter. When he turned it on, with a single, sharp _click_ , the two lampposts on either side of him suddenly shut off. The same happened to every lamppost in his vicinity, as he walked down the street, to where the cat was. As he reached the small animal, the last of the lights on the street went out, burying it in darkness. Even the most sharp eyed individual could not see what was about to happen.

            The man put the device back in his pocket and smiled.

            “Good evening, professor McGonagall.” he said, almost as if he was talking to the cat.

            The animal in question simply stared at the man, regarding him with a strange look for a feline face. Then, the strangest thing occurred. The shape of the animal started to change. In a short span of a second, the cat was standing on its hind legs, its fore limbs now had fingers, and its height was now to the man’s shoulder. But now the cat was no longer a cat, she was a woman in her forties with a stern look and even sterner posture.

            “Albus.” she greeted the man in front of her, who didn’t seem slighted in the least about what he saw, as if he had witnessed it countless time before.

            “I trust all is well?” asked the man, as he started to backtrack his steps in a slower manner, with McGonagall beside him.

            “Yes. I have watched them all day and while they’re not great, they’re not as horrible as I would have thought them to be. The child threw a tantrum this morning when he didn’t get his dessert before his meal, but Petunia calmed him down by putting him in a time out. Vernon was out most of the day at work, but he helped with dinner and played with his son for a while.” recited the professor.

            “That seems to me like a great set of parents thus far.” stated Albus. “Is there more?”

            “There was...” started McGonagall after a moment of thought “A discussion I happened to overhear between the Dursleys. They were talking about the wizarding world, and it was a tense and short conversation.”

            “And?” inquired Albus further.

            “They held little regard for the celebrations our kind kept putting on today. While most muggles are unaware, even in the face of the preposterous displays of magic that could breach the Statute of Secrecy,” she bristled a bit at that, “they know something is the matter and they were _unimpressed_ by the state of things,” she finished, reclaiming her cool.

            “I get the impression that you would feel the boy would be treated less, because of his parentage.” said Albus undeterred.

            “I remember what Lily told me about her sister on occasion. While there was no outright hatred, there was some animosity between them. By placing a magical child in Petunia Dursley’s care, we could do more harm than good.” she concluded.

            “He is still her nephew, Minerva,” Albus said, “she may be able to put aside her feelings on the matter to take care of the boy. If not for him, at least for her sister. As I understand, there is a certain _debt_ Petunia owes Lily and James, one that, given the current circumstances, can only be repaid by taking the boy in her home.” he concluded in a knowing tone.

            “Very well,” conceded Minerva, as they arrived in front of the house the Dursley’s were living in, “I will trust your judgment in this matter. But if it comes to light that they are mistreating him...” she warned.

            “Then I will relocate him somewhere else, personally.” promised Albus, with a determined air about him. “I will not have an innocent child put under the care of unloving caretakers, of that you have my word. Someone will be watching him at all times, to make sure of that.”

            Minerva McGonagall could only nod, as in that moment she felt rather intimidated by Albus’ attitude. Even in the obscured setting, it was clear to her that there was a reason this man was who he was.

            “Sometimes I wonder why Dark Lords are frightened of you, and then I remember.” she said.

            Albus chuckled, stroking his long beard absentmindedly, “Minerva, you make an old man blush. But I thank you for the compliment, nonetheless.”

            “You’re not that old, Headmaster.” she said quickly.

            “I am almost three times your age, if you recall.” he said lightly.

            “And yet, you only look twice as old as I do.” she smiled, while Albus just laughed. But her smile suddenly went sour, as if the small moment of distraction only served as a reminder of the terrible event that happened earlier that day.

            “Is _he_ gone, Albus?” she asked in a completely different tone than the one she had a minute ago, like she was afraid and anxious of the answer. “Is it true what they say?”

            “Voldemort?” he asked, ignoring the way McGonagall shivered at the name. “No, I don’t think he is, at least not entirely. Last night’s events certainly put him out of commission, possibly rendered him powerless to a certain extent, but gone? No, the Dark Lord will come back eventually, to seek revenge. This is why we are hiding the boy here, as it is the safest place for him to be.”

            “Most have already decided that he is dead, as you can see.” McGonagall remarked.

            “Most people like the common version of the truth, regardless of its actuality.” Albus retorted, and McGonagall had to agree with him.

            “And the boy? How did he survive?” she asked, ignoring the pang of sadness she felt when thinking of his parents.

            “I have my suspicions, though none of them are close to what I would call a theory. It is possible that the sacrifice Lily and James did for their son is the cause of his survival, but it would be unheard of. There may be other factors in play, but right now, that sacrifice is the only protection the boy has.” said Albus gravely.

            McGonagall inhaled deeply, to calm her nerves. The deaths of Lily and James hit her hard, as they were two of her favourite students and later her closest friends. The injustice of it all, how they were taken from the world so young and with so little happiness in their life, was enough to anger her immensely. If their child had not survived, she doubted she could have held it together.

            “Would I be remiss,” she said, not looking in the Headmaster’s direction, even though he couldn’t see her properly in the dark, “if I would ask to take care of the boy myself?”

            “If it is proven that his relatives cannot take care of him like they should, then I will place him in your care, protection at hand or not.” nodded Albus. “But until then, I would place him with his last living family.”

            “I understand, Albus.” sighed McGonagall. “How much longer do we have to wait?” she changed subjects.

            “Not long, if I am correct. Hagrid should be her any minute now, and I don’t remember a time where he was late.” he responded.

            The Headmaster barely finished his sentence, when the roar of an engine could be heard from above. About a hundred and fifty feet in the air there was a massive figure flying overhead. The figure landed on the street as the sound of the engine was cut off. The newcomer was a mountain of a man, taller than most people, with a bundle around his chest, holding something that was no bigger than a loaf of bread.

            “Professor Dumbledore, sir. Professor McGonagall.” the man greeted the pair, as he dismounted the motorcycle with a grunt.

            “Evening, Hagrid.” said the Headmaster. “There were no complications, I trust?”

            “No sir, little tyke fell asleep just as we were flying over Bristol.” he said, as he handed the bundle to the aging professor.

            “Creative choice of transportation, Hagrid.” remarked McGonagall, looking at the motorcycle that she felt was familiar.

            “Yes, Sirius Black lent it to me. Poor lad, he was in a right state, he was.” said Hagrid sorrowfully.

            Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall shared a look, but did not comment any further. They walked to the doorstep of Number 4 and placed the bundle right by the entrance, careful not to wake up the small child wrapped up in blankets. McGonagall made a sound of surprise when she saw a scar on his forehead, red and angry, shaped like a lightning bolt.

            “He will carry it all of his life,” said Dumbledore, noting the other professor’s reaction “there is nothing we can do about it. He will be forever marked because of it.”

            “There won’t be a child who won’t know his name.” regarded McGonagall sadly.

            “Precisely,” said Dumbledore. “He needs to grow up far away from all of it, until he is ready.”

            “Surely, Albus, you do not want him ignorant of it all until he comes to the school!” McGonagall whispered angrily. “He cannot remain in the dark for so long, he must be prepared for it when the time comes!”

            “I am aware, Minerva.” Dumbledore responded calmly. “I have written the Dursleys a letter,” he continued, reaching into his pockets and producing an envelope with a wax seal on its front. “When the boy has questions, his relatives will be able to reach us and we will explain everything. Do not worry, I have no intention of him arriving in our world unprepared, I merely want him to have time away from those who would regard him as a saviour. Such high expectations so early will undoubtedly only burden him further.” he explained as he tucked the letter in one of the blanket’s folds.

            McGonagall felt slightly ashamed that she implied the Headmaster wasn’t doing the right thing and that she jumped at him, while he retained his calm and serene tone. But Dumbledore only gave her a smile and assured Hagrid, who was now crying at the prospect of leaving the boy, that it was not goodbye. The giant man wiped his tears and went back on the motorcycle, while the two professors took one last look at the boy on the doorstep.

            “Good luck, Harry Potter.” said Dumbledore, and with that, he and McGonagall vanished into the night, with a single _crack_ in their wake. The very next second, all the lights that were previously drowned out returned to normal and the eerie silence of the street remained unperturbed until dawn.

            A few short hours later, Petunia Dursley woke up and made coffee for Vernon and her in their kitchen downstairs. In her nightgown, while she was resting her back on a counter, waiting for the coffee pot to finish, she saw something. Across the hall and outside of the front door, she could see something through the semi transparent glass. There appeared to be something on her doorstep, but she could not figure out what. Checking the clock, she saw that the milkman was not due for another few minutes, right about the time the coffee finished and Vernon woke up. Hoping it was not something the neighbourhood kids did as a joke, she approached the door and opened it.

            To say she was surprised was an understatement. She gasped, loudly, but put her hand over her mouth in hopes of not making too much noise and waking the baby that was _currently on her doorstep_.

            Hurriedly, she took the child in her arms and took him inside the living room, dreading to think what spending the night outside in early November had done to him, but the blankets he was in were uncommonly warm, as if gently heated by a radiator somewhere nearby. Naturally, Petunia thought that he was feverish, but a simple check of his forehead suggested otherwise. That is when she saw the mark on the poor boy’s head. She contained another noise of surprise and made sure it was not bleeding or infected, but made note not to touch it, as its proximity raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

            As far as she could tell, the child she was holding was quite all right, after inspecting him for a minute or two. When she realised he was in no apparent danger, she thought to call the police to let them know about this. Surely, this child had a family somewhere or someone who could take care of him. She thought of Dudley and how she would feel if someone had taken him; she would do anything to have him back. As a mother herself, it was her duty to take this child with a strange scar on his head where he belonged.

            Petunia missed the milkman when he delivered his goods and when her husband came downstairs, but jumped slightly when Vernon closed the front door and went to the kitchen, milk bottles in hand, with a sleepy “Morning, Pet!” when he saw her.

            She looked at him with a stupefied face, still holding the child in the blankets, as he went about his business in the kitchen. Vernon came in the living room with two cups of coffee and sugar on a tray, smiling to himself.

            “Fine morning, isn’t it -“he said as he sat down the tray on a table, but he shut abruptly when he saw his wife from the front. His mind supplied that it was their little Dudders, but he was upstairs, still sleeping. Vernon knew this because he saw him when he turned on the baby monitor before coming downstairs.

            “Vernon, I...” she started, but could not find the right words.

            “Darling, whose child is this?” the man asked carefully.

            “I-I don’t know, Vernon.” she said, still mind boggled about it. “I just found him like this, on our doorstep.”

            “ _He_...” started Vernon in a loud voice, but calmed himself when he remembered the child in the room, “was what?!” he finished in a concerned tone.

            “Yes, I know. I have no idea who he is or how he got that dreadful scar on his head. Oh, Vernon,” she pleaded, “we have to do something. There must be someone looking for him!”

            “Okay, Pet. We’ll have to contact the police.” Vernon agreed. “Is he alright?”

            “He’s fine, I think.” said Petunia, looking at him with sad eyes. “Poor boy, who would abandon him like this?”

            Vernon muttered something about irresponsible parents under his breath and made a move to get the house phone to dial 999, but just when he was about to, he noticed something at his wife’s feet.

            “Tuney’, darling, what’s that?” he pointed at the letter.

            Petunia shot a glance at what her husband was pointing and grabbed it from the floor, carefully balancing the boy in her arms, who was yet to make a sound. He was sleeping so peacefully, Petunia dared not wake him.

            She gave Vernon the letter, who sat down next to her. The waxing seal seemed familiar to her, like she saw it before, but could not place when and where. Vernon read the contents, his face going through ten different emotions and colours, finally resting on pale and horrified.

            “Petunia, darling...” he said on a grave tone. “It’s about your sister and her husband... I’m sorry...” he said eventually.

            Petunia suddenly went cold, like her breath has been knocked out of her and she was doused in ice. She could not move, could not speak a word. With a tremendous deal of dread, she passed the child in her arms to her husband, who took the boy gently, and then she took the letter.

 _Dear Mr and Mrs Dursley_ ,

           

            _It is with great sorrow that I must inform you that last night, on October 31 st 2001, Mrs Dursley’s sister and her husband passed away in their home in Godric’s Hollow. They were attacked by one Dark Lord Voldemort, who I’m sure Mrs Dursley knows of, to some extent. I offer you my deepest sympathies and condolences._

_The boy you found this letter with is Harrison James Potter, their son and your nephew. He is the only survivor of the attack and part of the reason the Dark Lord has been defeated. I will not burden you with the details, but suffice it to say he is now in danger from his followers and he needs to be somewhere safe. The magic Lily and James performed insures that he will be safest where there is a blood relative; as it stands, you are his last living relatives and his only chance at protection. It is with a heavy heart that I must place him in your care._

_The boy, as you will discover, is a wizard. He will be offered a spot at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when he is of age, but until that time I trust you will tell him the truth about his heritage. If you need help in that regard when the time comes, someone from school will come and explain it to him. Mrs Dursley knows how to contact me._

_I also realise that you already have a child and another one will be a financial strain on you. For that reason, a payment for the child’s needs will be made to you on a monthly basis, as long as you accept to take him under your roof. Documents that are meant for the muggle authorities stating what I said above will be available to you in the course of the day, with only your signature and mailing required of you._

_If you are not capable of taking care of him like you would any other child, or misuse the payments sent for him, then he will be removed from your care. But I ask that you take care of him, like you would for your son._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry..._

           

            The letter continued with a list of titles that Petunia didn’t know or had a vague notion about. She clutched the letter with a trembling hand and then she stood up to stand in front of her living room window. As she let the tears fall from her face and small sobs escape her lips, she thought of her sister. She had always been jealous of her, that she was second born and the apple of their parents’ eyes, that she was always better than her at school, that she had been a witch and she was not, able to do things she only imagined, that she married first, straight out of school, while she went through her worst breakup in her life just before she met Vernon...

            And all the while, Lily, kind, sweet, compassionate, forgiving and patient Lily never turned on her, never shunned her, not for all the cruel and hurtful things Petunia did or said, never once in their whole life. Lily had always been there for her sister, which was evident the last time she saw her, when she and her husband saved the Dursley’s life two years prior. Petunia thought of her, of how brave she was in that time and she then realised how brave she had _always been_ , how she didn’t care the way the wizarding world viewed her because of her family, how she fought for a better chance at life and how it must’ve been for her, in her very last moments, when the person she was fighting came in her house and the last thing she did was defend her son, not herself.

            Without Lily, she realised, she wouldn’t be standing there, in her living room, with her husband on their couch and their son upstairs. She wouldn’t have any of these things, possibly not even her life.

            She turned around, her face a terrified expression, to see her husband still holding the child and looking at her expectantly.

            “It’s up to you, Pet. If you want us to keep him, then we will. You read the letter, we won’t have any trouble with the money, we already have the space and I’ll take more time off at work to help around.” he offered.

            Petunia said nothing. She went to her husband, still sniffing from time to time, and took Harry in her arms and cradled him as gently as she could. Slowly, little boy opened his eyes and looked at his aunt for the first time in his life.

            He had Potter’s features, sure, but his eyes were an exact copy of Lily’s, green as an emerald. The boy made a cooing noise and smiled as he reached his aunt’s cheeks and wiped her tears away. Petunia gave a short laugh, happy and sad at the same time. She then felt the weight that was put on her chest when she read that letter lift a little more, seeing the familiar eyes that belonged to her father and her sister; she then knew that Lily was not lost to her forever, that she still had a little piece of her still. And while she could never express her sorrows to her sister, or gratitude for that matter, she could do this one thing as repayment.

            “We will take him in, Vernon. I want to. For... her.” she finished, not being able to say her name quite yet, hurt still present in her voice.

            Just as she said that, the mailbox could be heard. A thump heavier than normal was followed by the sound, signalling that the documents Dumbledore mentioned were delivered. Vernon got up to get the mail almost automatically, and returned with a few postcards, some bills and the official looking envelope. Her husband opened it and left it on the table.

            “Look, Petunia, if you want to do this, then you know I’ll support you all the way. We’ll take him, we’ll treat him as our own and we will tell him the truth when the time comes.” he said, taking the time to measure his words as sincerely as he could. This was something not most people witnessed, the gentler side of Vernon Dursley. It was why Petunia fell in love with him, the fact that he could be a sensible and rational man when it came to it, not just the brute most people would think he is. “But if we do this, if we sign these papers, then there is no going back. So I have to be sure that you are sure.” he concluded.

            Petunia looked at Harry, who was now playing with her nightgown, all smiles and happiness. She looked at this product of Lily’s love and thought that, if the roles were reversed, Lily would take Dudley without a second glance.

            “Give me a pen, will you?” she said instead of an answer. Vernon nodded, kissed her cheek and went in the kitchen. Half an hour later, the documents were signed and were dropped of at the post by Vernon, on his way to work. Vernon offered to take the day off and help his wife with the new baby, but she insisted there was no need, as he had a vacation week in a few days, and that she would be fine for now.

            During his day, Vernon thought of his sister and brother in law. When he first met James Potter, he was intimidated by the man and honestly scared of his magic and he knew that he didn’t act on his best behaviour. When Petunia revealed to him her sister’s secret, he was adamant that they have no contact with them. But because he loved his wife, he accepted to meet the couple. In retrospect, their _talents_ , as Vernon put it, had helped them in was he could not even begin to repay. He wasn’t that thrilled with _magic_ , but he knew that Harry would have it, and that there was nothing to do about it. He agreed to take on the responsibility of having a wizard, of all things, in his house and that meant accepting it, regardless on his personal feelings about it. Although, truth be told, ever since he last saw the Potters, he didn’t have that much negativity towards magic.

            He called his sister, Marge, to tell her the news. He didn’t tell her about the boy’s certain aptitudes, as Marge, a fanatical religious woman at heart, would take it the wrong way, but he let her know about the situation: that he was going to take care of his wife’s nephew. Marge congratulated him, as she would, on his selfless act.

            Later, when Vernon got home, he was greeted by the sight of his wife making dinner, and his son and nephew sitting together in a play-pen, making generally happy sounds and playing with blocks. Dudley seemed to get along with Harry, at least at first glance.

            “Petunia? I’m home!” he announced. Dudley looked at him happily and said what sounded like ‘Da-da!’ Harry, however, pointed at him, made a noise of recognition and looked expectantly at his aunt, as if he was showing that he knew him.

            Petunia came in the hall, with an almost happy expression, given the circumstances. Vernon knew that she cried after he left, but didn’t say anything. She kissed him as a hello, took his briefcase to put in the living room, and promptly went back to her meal.

            Vernon turned his attention to the two boys. Dudley was his normal self, but Harry was slightly confused about his location, like he knew something went wrong. Vernon knew that he must be looking for his parents, but couldn’t find them.  He was old enough to remember them, but perhaps he didn’t remember how they died, or simply didn’t know that something happened.

            “Da-da?” asked Harry, looking at Vernon.

            “Uncle. Un-cle.” he said.

            “Un-caw.” replied Harry happily.

            “Uncaw?” asked Dudley, suddenly aware of the exchange of words happening in front of him.

            “Da-da.” he said automatically to his son.

            “Da-da?” asked Harry, who had a borderline confused expression on his face.

            “No, _uncle_.” he said to Harry.

            “Uncaw!” they both shouted at the same time. Vernon could swear he heard Petunia laughing from the kitchen. Mildly frustrated, he changed tactics.

            “Da-da,” he made sure to motion his hand between Dudley and him. “Uncle.” he said, doing the same for Harry. Then the two boys shared a look between them, making Vernon pause and blink, and suddenly he felt no more intelligent than the two children in front of him. Thinking that it may have worked, he motioned for Dudley with his hand, waiting. Somehow, trough sheer luck maybe, his son said “Da-da”, while Harry said “Uncle”.

            “Yes!” said Vernon with a wide grin, making the two boys laugh at him cheerfully, before remembering the toys they had in their possession and focused on those instead.

            Vernon went into the kitchen to help set the table, but found his wife holding herself and looking sadly at them. He went to hug her and held her against him, while she sobbed into his arms.

            A minute later, she retreated and wiped her tears. “You had better luck than I did,” she said, sniffing. “He struggles to pronounce the word ‘aunt’ and just goes back to ‘mama’ because it’s easier. I tried with ‘Petunia’, but he just said ‘Tuney’, _exactly_ like her.” finished Petunia, biting back more tears.

            “It will be alright, Pet.” Vernon tried to comfort her. “It will get easier.”

            “I know.” she said, looking at the boys, before putting a smile, turned to Vernon and brushed the non-existent lint on his shoulders. “Let’s get them ready for dinner.”

            Vernon was thankful that Mrs Marin and Mr Reynolds both gave them a high chair for toddlers back when Petunia was pregnant with Dudley. They said they would give the extra one to whichever of their friends expected a baby next, but up until now there was no need. Vernon took the extra one from the cupboard under the stairs, cleaned it with a wet cloth and put Harry in it, while Petunia was dealing with Dudley. They sat at the table in the kitchen, with both boys at their side, as they ate.

            “Is there going to be a funeral?” asked Vernon, halfway through the meal.

            “I don’t know. If there is, I doubt we can attend, not while it’s dangerous for Harry.” she said, not meeting his eyes. “Once it’s safe and he is old enough to understand, we’ll take him to see their graves, if there will be any.”

            “Alright.” agreed Vernon. “I called Marge, by the way. I let her know we are taking your nephew in with us.”

            “And?” asked Petunia, gripping her fork tightly. She and Marge didn’t always see eye-to-eye, since Marge had a habit of sprouting rather conservative views on things, something Petunia didn’t appreciate. “What did she say?”

            “Ma-ma!” said Dudley from her left. “Dess-art!” he continued, motioning for the cookies on the counter beside him, to his right.

            “Finish your meal, first, sweetums.” she said, pointing to his bowl and then taking her fork repeatedly to her mouth to signal eating. Dudley looked a little put out and stared wistfully at the cookies, while Harry continued to eat in silence.

            “She sends her condolences and that she prays for their souls.” continued Vernon.

            “What did you tell them about their death?” she asked tightly.

            “Dess-art!” cried Dudley, but his mother said the same thing to him as before.

            “That they died in a car crash.” Vernon said simply. “I made a note to say that it wasn’t their fault.”

            “Thank you.” said Petunia, returning to her meal. “No doubt she would paint them as drunkards that didn’t pay attention to the road.” she continued bitterly.

            “Da-da! Dess-art!” tried Dudley with his father, seeing that it wasn’t working with his mother.

            “Finish your meal, Dudders. You heard your mother.” he stated firmly, making Dudley pout. Harry seemed amused by the situation, making Dudley even fussier about it.

            “I wish you and her would get along better.” said Vernon.

            “Du.” said Harry all of a sudden.

            “And I wish she wouldn’t keep saying that I am better at taking care of Dudley and staying at home than being a journalist.” she retorted.

            “Du.’ said Harry again.

            “Pet, you don’t have to agree with her.”

            “Du!” cried Harry.

            “Well, I still haven’t forgiven her for what she said to Naomi.”

            “Du! Du!” cried Harry as loud as he could, to attract the attention of the adults.

            Vernon turned to look at his nephew, who was jumping in his seat and pointing at Dudley, who was currently reaching for the cookies on the counter. Problem was, the cookies were too far away from him, and in his struggle to get to them, and Dudley’s chair was starting to tilt dangerously towards the counter.

            “What?” asked Petunia worriedly and turned to look at her son at the same time Vernon got up to drag Dudley back.

            But Vernon was a split second late, as the moment he went to grab his son, Dudley’s chair lost all balance and started to go down rapidly, with Dudley in tow, whose head was approaching the edge of the counter.

            Then, before anyone could react further, Dudley stopped mid fall with his chair, at an impossible angle. The next second, the chair was back in its place, with a very confused Dudley in the seat.

            The Dursleys exchanged horrified looks and then turned to Harry, who had his hand aimed at Dudley, as if he wanted to catch him. For a second, the adults in the room had no idea how to react. But then Petunia regained her composure.

            “Dudley, if you don’t finish your meal, you don’t get dessert!” she chided her son, while taking him out of the chair, motioned for Vernon to follow, and put Dudley in his playpen, as a punishment. She hoped that by making this seem like a normal, Dudley wouldn’t realise the danger he was just in and get scared. If she didn’t freak out, there was no reason for Dudley to freak out. “Next time you don’t listen to mommy, I am taking your toys away!” she wiggled her finger at him. Something in her tone must have conveyed the warning, because Dudley crossed his arms and sat down angrily, but he did not cry or make a fuss. He did something bad and now he was punished, or so Petunia hoped he understood.

            Sighing with relief and letting go of the tension in her shoulders, now sure that her little boy was safe, she turned to see Vernon holding Harry, who was smiling.

            “Well now,” said an equally amused and concerned Vernon, “seems the little tyke is more like his parents than we thought.”

            Petunia had to agree with her husband. This was the second time a Potter saved a Dursley. While she was grateful on both accounts, she hoped there would be no need for it in the future.

           


	2. The Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has an incident that makes him think that he is seeing things and another that shakes him to the core.

 

 

 

            It was a sunny morning in July on Privet Drive. At number 4, Harry Potter woke up in his bedroom, followed by a series of taps on his door.

            “Breakfast, Harry!” said his aunt Petunia from behind the door, before going back downstairs. Harry got up and put on his glasses from the nightstand, mindful of the slight headache he was sporting. He had dreams last night, dreams of flying, of old men with strange beards, of motorcycles and green lights. He had them for a while, but he could not make sense of it all. It was possible that he was remembering the night his parents were killed, but Harry had no idea how it all came together. He knew someone came in their house and attacked his parents and that only he lived, but not much else. His aunt and uncle did not like to talk about it, because his aunt got sad whenever he mentioned her sister and his uncle tried to change topics by that point.

            The boy went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and try in vain to settle his unruly hair. While most of the time he was fine with the way he looked, today it just wouldn’t stay the way he liked, unless he took a shower first. But Harry’s stomach protested the notion, grumbling loudly for the breakfast aunt Petunia promised. The smell of bacon coming from downstairs didn’t help matters at all.

             “Happy birthday, darling!” smiled aunt Petunia at him from the stove, before giving him a peck on his cheek. His uncle smiled at him from his chair and pulled him into a one arm hug, kissing the top of his head affectionately. Harry beamed at them and sat down at the table. He looked around, and saw some presents on the couch. He was anxious to open them, but he figured it was best to wait until after eating.

            “Where is Dudley?” Harry asked, looking for his cousin.

            “Well, he should be –“ started aunt Petunia, but was interrupted by her son entering the kitchen, with a blanket on his shoulders, moving at a slow pace and groaning. He was wearing his pyjamas with ducklings and his hair was sticking out in all sorts of directions, worse than Harry at this point.

            “G’morning.” he said nasally. “Happy birthday, Harry.” Dudley continued in a strained smile and a weak voice, before sitting down opposite of his father at the table. Harry could swear he saw his uncle lifting the newspaper higher and shaking. Truly, it was a sight, but Harry had to remember how Dudley got sick in the first place.

            “Here you go!” said Petunia, setting down the plates in front of Harry and Vernon. “Don’t worry, Dudders, I made something for you to help with the cold.” she said, as she put a bowl of hot soup in front of him.

            “I hate being sick.” he sniffed loudly. Harry shot him a look of sympathy.

            “Well, you should have thought of that _before_ you both went out in the rain to play, _without_ your coats.” chastised Petunia both of her boys, before joining her family at the table.

            “It’s not his fault,” said Dudley, looking at his bowl, “he brought an umbrella.” he continued weakly. Harry smiled, remembering how Dudley insisted that he would be fine in the rain and that he didn’t need Harry’s umbrella.

            “Well, at least one of you is sensible.” remarked Petunia, before mouthing a ‘Thank you’ at his nephew. Harry thought is was a ‘thank you for trying’ in reality, but only nodded in response.

            After breakfast, Harry washed his dishes before anyone could protest and went straight to the living room, to open his gifts. Before he could do that, however, his uncle placed a hand on his shoulder without looking from his newspaper, stopping the boy in his tracks.

            “Ah-ah-ah,” he said, “not so fast kid. You don’t get to open those until later today.”

            “Then why are they on the couch?” he retorted.

            “Good question.” said his aunt evenly, taking a sip of her coffee and shooting a glance at her husband.

            “Well, I...” started Vernon, but could not begin to explain how he had forgotten to hide them before Harry came downstairs.

            “Fine...” the boy huffed in annoyance. “I’ll wait. When do I get to open them?” he asked, turning to his family.

            “I told you, later today.” explained Vernon, letting go of his nephew and continuing to read.

            “Why?” asked Harry, narrowing his eyes, knowing something was up.

            Before there could be another response, however, Dudley started coughing. Unfortunately, he was eating soup at the time, which meant he sprayed some of it on to the table. Petunia procured a glass of water and handed it to her son, while Harry looked for the cloth they used for cleaning and gave it to his uncle. Harry wanted to question them further, but he thought that their attention would be aimed at Dudley for the time being. Minutes later, after the mess was no more, Vernon bid goodbye to his family, saying he will be back by noon. Even though he took his briefcase, Harry got the feeling that is was just for show, but couldn’t understand why.

            His aunt was giving medicine to her son, who started to look less like a ghost and more like a zombie, Harry thought. It was an improvement at least.

            “Could you bring me the tissue box, Harry?” his aunt asked.

            Harry went to the far side of the kitchen to fulfil his request, but on his way back he noticed something peculiar on top of one of the cabinets. He said nothing of it when he handed the tissues to his aunt, who replied a ‘Thanks’ before returning to Dudley, who felt a little smothered by the attention his mother was giving him. Petunia steered Dudley to take him upstairs for a bath, telling Harry to mind himself for a few minutes until she got back.

            Harry opted to take a better look at the thing on the cabinet. Standing somewhere he could see it better, he realised it was a white coloured object, most likely a circle.

            ‘Cake!’ he suddenly thought. ‘It’s my birthday cake!’

            The bespectacled boy was giddy with joy. He knew his aunt and uncle would have a cake for him, as they did for Dudley a month earlier, but he didn’t know where they put it. Now, curious beyond measure, as any boy his age would be at the prospect of sweets, he wanted to take a close look at it. Trouble was, there was no way he could reach it. He looked around, thinking he could use the chairs to reach the cake. He dragged one of them to the counter underneath his target, and climbed up. Unfortunately, it was still too high. His relatives put it away well, he could barely reach the top of the cabinet’s handle.

            He climbed down, frowning. He lift up the chair on to the counter, but didn’t have any room to place it properly. The back rest was too tall for the space in between. Resigned in his fate, Harry put the chair back in its place and stared in frustration at his cake, so far out of his reach. He just wanted a peek, just a small one, before the cake was served. For a moment, he just wanted the delicious sweet to be closer to him.

            What Harry witnessed next gave him pause. The cake _actually moved_ closer to the edge by an inch or so. Harry took a step back in surprise and let out a gasp. It couldn’t have moved by itself, couldn’t it? It couldn’t have been the wind, the windows were closed, and the thing looked heavy. The only explanation was that _Harry_ somehow made it move. But that was just silly. You couldn’t move things without touching them. And yet, Harry knew what he saw.

            He tried it again, closing his eyes and concentrating on moving the cake again. But when he opened his eyes, nothing was different. It was standing there, just as it did a few seconds ago.

            “Harry, you in the kitchen?” Harry heard his aunt calling for him from the stairs.

            “Yes, aunt Petunia!” he answered, still eying the cake warily.

            “Could you grab me my cell?” she asked.

            Harry found the slider phone on the table and went upstairs to his aunt, trying to put the incident out of his mind. It was weird, to say the least, but Harry had to conclude that he imagined it. There was no other explanation, really. Still, there was a part of him that was unsettled that it _could_ have been real. But as to how that was that possible, Harry couldn’t explain.

            Harry spent the next few hours in his room, tidying up and doing some of his summer homework. With Dudley being sick, he had no one to play with, so he thought it best to finish up on his school work. That is, until he heard his uncle pull up in the driveway. When he looked out the window, he saw that there were more cars parked on their street than usual. There was a group of adults and their children being led to the Dursley’s front door, most of whom Harry recognised. His jaw hit the floor in realisation and went downstairs, where his relatives along with what few people managed to get in were waiting for him.

            “Happy birthday!” they shouted in unison. Vernon and Petunia looked particularly pleased with themselves, as they hid the surprise until the very last second.

            Harry was ecstatic, considering he hadn’t thought he was going to have a party. But, like any young boy, any excuse to play with his friends and eat loads of tasty food his aunt made was a happy occasion.

            What few classmates he got along with at school were suddenly invading the Dursley household, taking Harry along with them, away from the boring adults. The Dursleys went in the backyard to put up the decorations and the food table, leaving Harry with his peers. After a minute, Harry noticed that his cousin was absent, for some reason. He made some excuse to his friends and got away from the loud children to find his aunt and uncle.

            “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he said, grabbing them both in a hug, as best he could.

            “It’s not everyday you turn seven, Harry.” his uncle told him, while patting him on his shoulder.

            “Where is Dudley?” he asked, suddenly reminding himself of his mission.

            “I’m afraid he is still to sick to play with the other children, so he’s upstairs.” responded his aunt.

            “But he didn’t have a birthday party when he turned seven!” Harry tried to reason. “He should be here!”

            “Darling, Dudley didn’t want a party, he wanted to go to the beach that week, remember?” Petunia said, hoping to still the waters. It was unfair, of course, but she didn’t want the other children catching a cold.

            “Okay.” said Harry in a defeated tone, looking at his feet.

            “Chin up, kiddo!” tried uncle Vernon. “Look, your aunt made some tarts, why don’t you have some?”

            The distraction proved successful, as Harry momentarily forgot about his cousin and took a tart from the table and went where the other kids were currently trying to decide on a game. Petunia watched her nephew laugh happily with the other kids and a small pang of sadness hit her.

            “She should be here.” said Petunia, still looking at Harry. “She should be the one who made the cake and the tarts, she should be the one who made his special breakfast today, not I.” she continued, feeling sadder by the minute. Vernon went it and held her by the shoulders, not knowing what to say to comfort her. They knew they could never replace the boy’s parents, he could never call them mother and father, because to do so made Petunia think that she was making Harry forget about Lily and James. She tried, really, to tell the boy about his mother and father, but it was hard, trying to avoid the usage of the words that would undoubtedly spark more questions from the boy, questions that she was in no way prepared to answer. But, she reminded herself, Harry knew the kind of people his parents were, their kindness and bravery, he knew about how great a person Lily was, and that was what mattered right now.

            “She would have stomped and huffed just like him, if I was missing her birthday party.” she said a bit more steadily. Vernon just smiled and pecked her cheek. Petunia turned to look at the window in Dudley’s bedroom and saw him sitting on the windowsill, looking dejected at the party he couldn’t attend. It was a heart-breaking sight for Petunia, as she never wanted to see any of her boys sad.

            “I should bring up some food for Dudley. Check up on him.” she said, sniffing slightly.

            “I think someone is ahead of you.” Vernon laughed lightly and pointed his head somewhere beside Petunia. As the latter turned in the direction her husband supplied, she saw Harry putting two portions of each kind of food on a large platter, with a determined expression on his face. He then promptly went back to the house, with a pile at least half his size in his hands. Somehow, he managed to balance it all and open the backdoor at the same time. Harry was nothing if not resourceful, remarked Petunia.

            Dudley heard a knock on his door a few moments later. Opening it, he was greeted by the sight of his cousin carrying what seemed like his weight in food.

            “Thought you might be hungry.” Harry said, as he set down the platter on Dudley’s desk.

            “Thanks. You didn’t have to, you know.” said Dudley, sounding slightly better than he did that morning. “What if you get sick?” asked, eating some chips Harry brought.

            “Don’t care.” replied Harry, taking a bite out of a tart.

            “If you say so. So, what did you get?” Dudley continued.

            “I have no idea. Haven’t opened any presents yet.” replied Harry. “I want to open them with you, you know, so that you could pick one for yourself, like we do with all our birthdays.”

            “Ah, yeah.” remembered Dudley.

            They sat like that for a time, watching the kids run around and play, and the adults mingling and talking with each other. The food platter was not even dented, when Harry and Dudley felt stuffed. There was a knock on the door for the second time in the last two hours. Petunia snuck her head in and called for Harry to come back outside to blow the candles. Harry promised Dudley to save him a piece, which brightened his cousin’s face a little.

            Surrounded by the party guests, Harry blew the seven candles placed on his vanilla cake, making a wish to always be with his family. He still eyed the cake strangely, but ate it happily nonetheless. He made sure uncle Vernon would give Dudley a piece, which made the man chuckle and ruffle his already wild hair.

            “Let’s play a game!” said Anna, one of Harry’s friends at school. “We should play hide-and-seek!”

            “That’s boooring!” complained a boy named Neilan. “We should play ‘Hunting’ instead!”

            “What’s that?” asked Harry, curious.

            “It’s like hide-and-seek, but _better_!” he exclaimed. “If you are found, you have to help the person searching catch the others! The last one to be found wins!”

            Harry felt like it was simply another variation of hide-and-seek, but he agreed with the others on the nature of the game.

            As each kid found their hiding spot, Harry managed to hide in one of the bushes in the garden. It was one of the places Harry used when he played with Dudley. He watched as almost everyone was found by Neilan, save for him and Anna, who Harry had no idea where she was. He was certain he was going to win, but the latest person Neilan found was slightly put out that he lost and pointed somewhere in Harry’s direction, in an action that suggested he was not happy that the boy managed to escape so far.

            Neilan took his advice and soon almost every one was coming directly towards Harry, who didn’t have anywhere else to go without being caught. Thinking that it was unfair that he should be the one to lose when that boy revealed his hiding spot, he wanted very badly to be somewhere else, somewhere hidden, where they couldn’t find him. He closed his eyes, feeling suddenly strangely, like he was being dragged through a tube of some kind. The sounds of the party suddenly were muted and far away, and Harry didn’t feel the grass under him, but floorboards instead.

            When he opened his eyes, Harry could not see anything. It was dark, everywhere he looked. He began to panic, thinking something was very wrong. He tried to move, but found there was not that much space for him to go. There were walls everywhere and things that were knocked down or hit him when he moved too fast. There was something crawling on him. Harry screamed and tried to get it off. In the process, something else wound up touching him, at the base of his neck, something wet and with a lot of fingers that felt like wool.

            “Help! HELP ME!” he screamed and screamed, but no one came. He began pounding the walls, whichever one proved to be the exit, in hopes someone would come for him. “Aunt Petunia! Uncle Vernon! Dudley! HELP!”

            Tears were now falling from his face, as Harry felt completely helpless for the first time in his life. He was in an unknown place, all alone, with no one to help him, with the walls coming down on him and with things crawling all over his skin. All he could do was bang on the walls and hope that someone will hear him.

            “Vernon, a word?” asked Petunia. Her husband excused himself from the conversation he was having with some of the parents at the boys’ school and went with Petunia. “Have you seen Harry?” she asked in a concerned voice.

            “Not since he asked me to make sure Dudley had a piece of cake. Why?” he responded, frowning.

            “I can’t find him. He was playing hide-and-seek with the kids and now he is nowhere to be seen.” Petunia said.

            Vernon looked around. Indeed, the kids were calling to Harry and searched every nook and cranny for him. None of the other adults seemed to catch on.

            “Maybe he’s upstairs with Dudley?” Vernon supplied.

            “Maybe.” said his wife.” I’ll go check.”

            “I’ll come with.” said Vernon, but his wife stopped him.

            “No, wait here and see to the guests. I don’t want to cause a panic.” she said thoughtfully.

            When Petunia went inside, a series of sounds stopped her in her tracks. There were shouts and loud noises, like someone was hitting a door, somewhere in her house. But the thing that sprung her into action was the sound of someone screaming their heart out.

            _“Please! Anyone! Help!”_

            Petunia ran, as fast as she could in high heels, to the entrance hall, where the sounds could be heard. The cupboard’s door was being hit repeatedly, as if someone was behind it. She unlocked it and then she got an armful of her nephew, followed by a mop that fell with him. Harry shook and gasped loudly for breath, terrified out of his wits, as he clung to his aunt and kicked the mop away with his feet.

            “ _HARRY!_ ” she intoned. “Harry, what happened?!” she demanded worriedly, but the boy could only cling to her and whimper. “Oh, my dear sweet boy! It’s alright, I’ve got you.” she tried to sooth her nephew, but to no avail.

            Petunia then realised that although Harry somehow got in the cupboard, the door was locked on the outside, meaning someone must’ve closed it. But all the other guests were outside and she severely doubted that Dudley would do something like that to his cousin. She reached out in the pocket of her sundress and took out her phone.

            “Vernon?” she said when the other line picked up.

            “ _Petunia, is everything alright?”_ said Vernon on the phone.

            “I found him.” she said, looking at Harry, who couldn’t stop shaking. “But we have to send everyone else home. Say he got the flu from Dudley, or something.”

            “ _Pet, what – “_

            “Vernon, please.” she begged.

            “ _Alright._ ” he said, before hanging up.

            Petunia managed to get Harry upstairs in his room, somehow. She sat with him on the bed and held his head resting against her.

            “Harry, I know you’re scared, but I need you to tell me exactly how you got there.”

            Harry sniffed, taking in long amounts of breath, apparently a lot calmer than he was before. “I-I d-don’t know.” he stuttered. “I-I was in the yard, b-behind the bushes, a-and then... And then I wasn’t!” he finished, looking scared at his aunt, fearing he did something wrong.

            “Harry...” she tried.

            “Please! You have to believe me, aunt Petunia! I don’t know how it happened, but it did!” he pleaded.

            “Harry, I know, I believe you.” she said, adamant to get her point across.

            “I am so sorry, aunt Petunia!” he cried. “I – “

            “Have nothing to be sorry about, Harry.” she said determined. “You did nothing wrong. It was an accident.”

            Petunia held her nephew a little while longer, while all the guests got in their cars and left. Ten minutes after the incident, Vernon knocked on the door.

            “Harry, are you alright?” he asked his nephew.

            “Darling, why don’t you go and play some video games in the living room?” offered Petunia.

            “Can you come with me downstairs? Please?” he asked.

            “Of course.” she said, as Vernon made room for them to exit. “Look, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” Petunia argued when they reached the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll leave the door to the cupboard unlocked from now on, okay? No one will lock it again.” she promised.

            Harry looked slightly unconvinced, but managed to get into the living room safely, although he didn’t let go of his aunt’s hand until then.

            Petunia turned to Vernon, deciding she kept him out of the loop long enough, and took him aside in the kitchen, while maintaining Harry in their visual field.

            “Vernon, I think he used magic again.” she whispered, still looking at Harry, worriedly.

            “How?” he asked, looking from his wife to his nephew and back again,

            “I think he...” Petunia said, “Apparated. You know, sort of like teleporting from one place to another.” she explained. “Unfortunately, he Apparated in the cupboard and got scared, because he had no idea where he was. Vernon, he was in there for almost fifteen minutes.” she said, miserably.

            “But I thought the protection from your sister made sure that no one could just wind up here by magic.” Vernon replied in a low tone.

            “No,” Petunia shook her head, “remember what Dumbledore said after we sent him that letter. He said that the protection is only against those who would wish him harm, not against himself. He was in no actual danger, just got scared.”

            Petunia looked at her nephew, who was holding the controller and looking at the screen. He seemed loads better than before, possibly because he was trying to distract himself from the incident.

            “What do we do now?” asked Vernon.

            “We call the school.” she said, sitting down at the table, sighing. “We have to tell him the truth.”

            “Now?” whispered Vernon. “Isn’t it a little too soon for that? He’s barely seven, for God’s sakes!”

            “He knows something is up.” Petunia argued. “There is no way we can hide it any longer. Now or in four years isn’t that much of a difference.”

            “You’re right, of course.” sighed Vernon. “We have to tell him.” he said, looking at his little nephew, hoping that he will not resent them when it all came to light. “I’ll get a pen and paper.” he concluded, as he made a move to the drawer were the items in question were kept.

            “There’s no need.” said Petunia evenly, as she took her phone and searched in her contacts, until she found the one she needed. She pressed dial and waited.

            “Hello, Professor Dumbledore?” said Petunia into her phone, ignoring the questioning look her husband was sending her. “It’s Petunia Dursley. I hope I’m not disturbing you. It’s about Harry. He’s fine, if a little shaken up. He Apparated and he got scared. No, no he is fine, he is on the couch. Is just that we feel it’s time. Yes, it would be appreciated. Thank you. Have good evening.” Petunia finished with her call.

            “Aren’t electronic devices supposed to not be working at that school?” Vernon finally asked his wife, curiosity getting the better of him.

            “Apparently, they got around it a few years back.” his wife responded simply, as she got up to make tea.

            “And here I thought they were going to be in the Dark Ages forever.” Vernon drawled out as he took out the cups from their cabinet. In truth, the image of the aging wizard, that he only knew from description, with something like a flip phone, made him laugh.

            The next day, Harry woke up, still feeling shaken about yesterday’s events. His aunt and uncle promised him they would talk the next day, so he put it out of his mind momentarily. His dreams were still terrifying him, even more so today, but he put on a brave face, as much as he could, and got ready for the day. He missed breakfast, having slept in late. Even so, he didn’t feel hungry in the least.

            As he got downstairs, pointedly ignoring that awful cupboard. Passing the living room he didn’t notice its occupants.

            “Good morning, Harry.” said his aunt. Harry turned around and saw two of his relatives, along with another woman he did not know. She was imposing, to say the least. She wore a white blouse, blue cardigan and long skirt, wore glasses with cords and had her auburn hair tucked neatly into a high bun. Harry was suddenly reminded of a school teacher for a moment, or a very posh grandma, for that matter.

            “Good morning, Mr Potter.” the lady said. “I am Professor Minerva McGonagall. Please, do have a seat, we have much to discuss.” she continued in a Scottish accent.

            “I’m not crazy.” he said to his aunt and uncle, who were already sitting down.

            “What? No, Harry, nobody is saying that you are crazy.” his aunt reassured him.

            “Mr Potter,” said Professor McGonagall, “I can promise you than you are as sane as I. Now, please, have a seat.”

            Harry complied, but mostly because she used that tone all the teachers use when they want to make students obey them. Harry swore that he would find out how they did it. As he sat down frowning, opposite of his relatives, thinking the worst, Professor McGonagall in the arm chair to Harry’s right and took a cup of hot tea from the coffee table. Harry had a nagging feeling that the tea was cold before he sat down.

            “Now, Mr Potter,” said McGonagall after a few moments, “I understand that something happened to you recently that you couldn’t explain.”

            Harry shot a look at his relatives, who were suddenly very interested in their cups of tea.

            “One minute you were somewhere then, unexpectedly, you where somewhere else.” she continued. “Am I correct?”

            Harry debated with having to answer her. He knew that if he told the truth he wouldn’t be taken seriously, but if he lied then he had no explanation for the event. He did find himself behind a closed door, somehow. He glanced at his aunt, who looked at him and gave a small nod of her head.

            “Yes.” said Harry to Professor McGonagall.

            “And did you, say, felt a sensation as if being ‘grabbed though a tube’, of sorts?” she asked knowingly.

            Harry’s eyes widen. He hadn’t told his relatives that. He only now remembered it because McGonagall mentioned it.

             “How did you – “ he tried to find the words.

            “As I thought.” McGonagall continued. “Now, I’m quite sure that this was not the only such incident, just the latest and the most noticeable.”

            “I don’t know what you mean.” Harry said weakly.

            “Really?” she raised an eyebrow and smiled out of the corner of her mouth. “You can’t think of any other time when something _strange_ occurred when you felt something very strongly?”

            Harry wanted to tell her ‘No’, but is was like someone was flashing images right before his eyes. There were moments that he could not explain, like the one with the cake from yesterday. His least favourite teacher’s turning three shades of blue in class, that time he fell from the tree but somehow gracefully managed to land, Dudley’s blocks falling when no one touched them that time he was angry with his cousin for not sharing the toys and something about cookies, but Harry couldn’t figure the last one.

            Harry turned to look at McGonagall, who was watching him amused. Harry himself thought that this was all some joke, but a part of him felt like it was real. What he could do was real, and this woman was about to give him answers.

            “I see.” she said, when he regarded her with a look of realisation. “There is an explanation for these out of the ordinary episodes. You see, you are part of a group of people with _special_ abilities that most do not possess.”

            Harry regarded her carefully. Surely, she would not say it?

            “What I mean is that you are able to do magic, Mr Potter.” she said, finally.

            At first, Harry wanted to laugh. To hear an adult speak so seriously about silly things like _magic_ was immensely funny to him. But then he remembered the incidents that he went through, and took consideration of the woman’s tone. This was real, _magic was real_! And Harry... _could do magic_.

            But then Harry remembered the other people in the room.

            “Did you knew?” he asked them. When they didn’t answer he continued: “You _knew_!” he shouted angrily. “You knew and you never told me!”

            “Normally,” said McGonagall a little more nervous than before, “we wait for a child to turn eleven before letting them know, but this is a rather special case.”

            “Harry, you have to understand,” said his aunt Petunia, finally, “that this is much more than us. It has to do with your mother and father, and how they died.”

            Harry had a bad feeling all of a sudden. Not once, in his life, had his relatives told him the full extent of how they died, save for the fact that it was a crime.

            “Your parents, Mr Potter,” said Professor McGonagall, trying to salvage what little she could, “were my students at school. After they graduated they got married and then they had you. Back then,” she started telling, but Harry was so desperate for more he wanted to tell her to hurry it up, “there was a wizard, a bad one, who used magic for awful things and thought that there was no place in the world for muggles, that is non-magical people, and those that were of magical talent, but were born out of muggles, like your mother was. She and your father both fought this bad wizard, but they lost, I’m afraid.”

            Harry got that _he_ was a wizard, at least in general terms, but _his parents_? Though it would make sense, that if both of his parents were magical then he should be too.

            “Six years ago,” continued McGonagall, concentrating on Harry, “this man came into your house and... killed your parents. But when he tried to kill you, he failed. Somehow, he vanished and the only reminder that you have now is the scar on your forehead.”

            Harry’s hand went automatically to where the scar was. He asked about it once, where did it came from. His relatives said that it was probably from the night his parents died, but didn’t knew how he got it. He supposed that was at least true, seeing their faces of almost surprise at McGonagall’s tale.

            “We found you on our doorstep the next day.” spoke uncle Vernon for the first time since Harry came downstairs. “We were told what happened and we decided to take you in. We,” he said with a small glance at his wife, “thought it was best until you were older to know the truth.”

            Harry thought he could understand. After all, he was older now, having started first grade already.

            “Your relatives’ decision is sound, but there is one other matter.” said McGonagall. “The only ones who may know of your magical abilities and that you are a wizard are your immediate family. Meaning only your uncle, aunt and cousin can now. Any other non magical not already aware of wizards must not discover who you are.”

            “Why?” asked Harry, truly curious.

            “Well, you would be breaking the law, for one.” she said unimpressed. “There is a government for witches and wizards in Britain that dictates our laws. One of them is that we remain a secret from the general population. The reason for that are numerous and we do not have all day.”

            “But I have so many questions!” Harry could not believe the woman.

            “And you will have your answers, but not at this point, seeing as I’m late enough as it is. Does he have access to email?” McGonagall asked the two Dursleys.

            “We can make him an account. It will be supervised, of course, until he is older.” said uncle Vernon.

            “Very well. I will send some things that he may be interested in via email, then.” said Professor McGonagall. “I must take my leave soon, but I still have a few minutes left.” she continued, turning to Harry. “You should know that you have your place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a most prestigious school of magic in Europe. It was where your parents learned how to control their magic and it is where it teach.” she concluded.

            “What will I learn?” he asked, but McGonagall barley had time to open her mouth, as he fired another series of questions at her “When will I start? Do I need anything in particular to learn magic? _Do I get to fly_?” he basically roared the last one in his excitement.

            The Durlseys wisely let McGonagall deal with the very enthusiastic boy, letting him know that he will start at Hogwarts when he will be eleven, that yes, he will need certain items at that time and he will be helped in their purchase, that he may fly, on a broomstick even, and so it went on, with every answer the Professor offered, Harry two more questions ready for her.

            “Will Dudley come with me?” Harry asked hopefully.

            “I am afraid your cousin is not a wizard, thus he cannot attend Hogwarts when the time comes.” McGonagall shook her head.

            “Can’t you make him one?” he pleaded, not seeing the way his aunt was looking at him.

            “No, I’m afraid not. You are either born a witch or wizard, or you are not. Your cousin, as it stands, is a muggle.” explained McGonagall, but gave a meaningful glance in Petunia’s direction. “Well, I’m afraid that’s all of the time I have today.” she looked at the clock and then stood up to bid farewell to the Dursleys. “Thank you for welcoming me into your lovely home, Mr and Mrs Dursley.” she said with a small bow of her head. “Mr Potter, I will see you in September in four years. Until then, I will send you some reading material with information regarding the wizarding world that would interest you.” she said with a smile.

            She then walked to the door, Durlseys behind her, when Harry suddenly remembered.

            “Professor? You never said what you taught at Hogwarts.” he said

            McGonagall stopped for a moment in her tracks with a small smile on her lips. “Well, now wouldn’t it be better if you figured it out on your own?” she said, giving Harry a look, and with that she left the house, leaving a confused Harry behind.

            As the boy turned his attention to the tray on the table he saw that the cup that she drank from earlier was now in the shape of a miniature dragon.

            If Harry had any doubts about magic before, he certainly didn’t now. He figured aunt Petunia wouldn’t be too upset about one of the cups in her set.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get a visit from McGonagall! Truly, I did it for the look I gave her. Really, Maggie Smith with a cardigan just screams school teacher. Or, well, a muggle one. And now Harry knows that he is a wizard. Until next time, I wish you happy days.


	3. The Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry visits Diagon Alley. But something peculiar happens when he meets Ollivander.

 

 

            Harry continued to learn about the wizarding world every chance he got. He used the reading materials Professor McGonagall supplied him with over email. He was anxious to find out about the world his parents lived in.

            His uncle and aunt were being supportive, but they could not help much when Harry had certain questions, so Harry took the initiative to make them read with him what McGonagall sent him. Dudley was told, and although he was sad for a while that he was not a wizard and could not go with Harry when he left for Hogwarts, jealous even, he came around after a talk with his mother. Harry wondered about the contents of that particular discussion, but decided not to pry.

            Still, Harry had other things to keep him occupied. He printed out the reading material, so that whenever he had free time, he could read them anywhere. He could simply ask for and e-reader or something of the like from his relatives, but they barely let Dudley use their phones. They were children, after all.

            At some point, he wrote to Professor McGonagall, asking how was it possible that she was using electronics, when all he read said that muggle devices could not work well in areas of magic. The Professor sent him one of the biggest file attachments to date. In them, Harry discovered, was the tale of a certain Amanda Goode, a Ravenclaw student at Hogwarts, and a muggleborn. There were news articles, scientific reports, and finally, an obituary. About forty years before Harry was born, this Amanda Goode started to look into the way muggle devices worked with magic and if there was any way for them to coexist. There were numerous attempts over her years at Hogwarts to make it work, none of which were successful. Then, with a stroke of luck, she made it happen, in the easiest way possible: she simply put magic inside of the device.

            She accidentally destroyed a microwave oven in her home, some time after finishing at Hogwarts. Naturally, she thought to repair it, using a spell. Afterwards, the device appeared to work under the presence of magic, where it hadn’t done so before. Amanda Goode thought to test this further, and with Headmaster Dumbledore’s permission, used the microwave inside of Hogwarts, as the school is the most magically imbued location available in the country. The device worked, surprisingly. Amanda theorised that by putting magical power into the object it could make it work with magic. The article went on about how it all worked, going into all sorts of technical details that Harry couldn’t understand. Suffice it to say, adding magic to muggle devices made them work in areas of magic. Harry hoped that he would someday understand the actual process.

            Sadly, there were those that opposed Goode’s discoveries. Vehemently, even. They wanted nothing to do with the usage of muggle artefacts, as they put it, and that things were fine the way they were. There was opposition, political or otherwise. But Amanda Goode would not back down:

            _“We are on the verge of a new century, a new millennium, even.”_ she said in an article. _“We have a chance to enter a new era of technology, to renew our understanding of the world and overcome certain difficulties that we faced in the past. It is our_ duty _to give the next generations the best the world will have to offer. Imagine talking to someone from far away in real time, imagine receiving imagines and sounds almost immediately from far away places, having access to a library of information from a single device... All of it is possible, and more. With the current evolution of muggle technology, we could have things many do not even dream of. They managed to get on the moon, they breached the frontier of the sky and were able to leave our planet! Why shouldn’t we? Why shouldn’t we be able to use our magic and their technology at the same time? It is possible, I have proven as much. With our abilities, we could match their own devices in record time, or surpass them, even! There is so much more we could accomplish._

 _I know that there are those who would oppose me, but I remind those people that the wizarding world has been stagnant for_ centuries. _We rely on candles or gas lamps for lighting, instead of light bulbs than run on electricity, an energy we can create with our magic, without fear of pollution! We use quills, instead of using fountain pens that are so much easier to write with! We wait for days for a reply in a letter, instead of using faster methods of communication! We close our eyes and pretend that it’s working, but I’m here to tell you that it’s not anymore. Pointy hats, floating candles and quills may seem fantastic to a muggleborn child, but we are not children anymore. And if we are not careful, in a few decades, muggle raised witches and wizards will be leaving our world, feeling that we have nothing to offer them besides living methods that were considered modern in the 1600s._

Harry believed that she made a few good points. If what he read so far of the wizarding world was true, then this Amanda Goode was right on track. Harry was sad to read that she died ten years before he was born. She was found dead and her house nearly in ruins, and the authorities suspected the work of her opposition, but could never find out who exactly did it. Amanda Goode made a lot of enemies during her political campaign for change.

            After her death, Albus Dumbledore took point. While he was a staunch supporter of Goode’s work while she was alive, he became downright determined to see her work fulfilled. He restarted her campaign and fought every single obstacle into his path, until he finally passed a law that implemented muggle devices into the wizarding world. He even made sure Hogwarts and its students were up with the times, reforming the school to a modern status. While some claimed that the Headmaster’s actions as Head of the Wizengemot were verging into power abuse, Dumbledore was smart; he used every loophole he could find, every legal extent to his position of power and rallied Goode’s supporters, who increased in numbers after her death. The public outcry for change was too much for the Ministry’s opposing faction of old fashioned purebloods.

            Harry then made some inquiries about the usage of technology in the wizarding world to McGonagall. She sent a list of reforms and such, and Harry was pleased to discover that in three short decades, Magical Britain was on par with Muggle Britain. There were other countries who took the initiative and delved into muggle advancements, but some where still just beginning to implement them. A small number of countries refused to do such a thing, but there was dissent with that decision.

            Harry found out, amusingly, that there _was_ a wizarding version of the internet, complete with sites specifically aimed at wizards. If a muggle opened one, they would be redirected to a completely useless site, or they would be shown a blank page. It was clever, Harry thought. Apparently, only wizard devices could access them, as they were somehow charmed to do so. When first accessing a wizard site they sent out an ‘OK’ signal to the server, allowing the user full access for all time. Harry couldn’t wait to get his hands on one of those.

            And so came the day of Dudley’s eleventh birthday in June. Harry went downstairs to find his aunt and uncle at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and chatting, having a normal morning overall. Petunia was doing a crossword puzzle, while Vernon was reading the news from his tablet and commenting them with his wife. They both bid him a ‘Good morning’ full of smiles. Harry grumbled in return, being in no position to answer like a human being yet. His eyes were half closed and his hair was a mess more so than usual. He sat at the table and rested his head upon it with a groan.

            “Someone’s not sleeping well.” remarked Petunia, giving Harry a small glance over her reading glasses.

            “Dudley snores.” said Harry, groaning with half of his mouth on the table.

            “You and Dudley had a pretty exciting day at the zoo yesterday, as I recall.” said Vernon. “It’s a wonder you’re up so early at all.”

            Harry raised himself up almost as if he was electrocuted and looked questioningly at his relatives.

            “It’s 7:30, dear.” clarified aunt Petunia.

            Harry groaned again and let his head fall back on the table with a small thud.

            “Mind your head.” said Vernon almost as if on cue, still looking at his tablet.

            “At least he doesn’t have glasses anymore.” sighed aunt Petunia as she wrote another word down.

            Harry received a potion by _owl_ of all things, from McGonagall, two years after their meeting face-to-face. She attached a letter to it, in it saying that the potion was meant to improve his vision and that he wold have to take it for some time to make the effects permanent. She also sent an email, explaining the _Oculus Potion_ , to further clarify its usage and origins. Four years later, Harry had now no need of wearing glasses anymore, for which he was immensely happy.

            “I still think you could ask McGonagall to help with your vision as well, Petunia.” said Vernon while he stood up to make Dudley’s birthday breakfast.

            “I know, but I like wearing them.” replied Petunia. “It makes me feel important and in command, sometimes.” she finished with a laugh.

            “You are aunt Petunia.” said Harry, still half facing down the table. “You _are_ important.” he continued, to make sure that his aunt got the message.

            “And you are being cute.” said aunt Petunia, kissing the top of his head, before getting back to her crosswords.

            “I’m eleven. I’m allowed.” Harry responded.

            “And cheeky, apparently.” laughed Vernon from the stove.

            “All right,” started aunt Petunia, straightening her back, “twelve down, six letters, has an ‘A’ in the middle, means ‘to have enough of’.” she finished, waiting for Harry to respond.

            “Spades.” yawned Harry as he finally got up to get toast.

            “Very good!” she congratulated her nephew and finished her puzzle.

            Some time later, when the Dursley adults and Harry were eating at the table, there was a series of loud sounds coming from the stairs, followed by a small grunt in surprise in the hallway. Dudley came in to the room, already dressed for the day, with a most gleeful expression on his face. Harry, along with his aunt and uncle, wished Dudley a ‘Happy Birthday’, but was still annoyed by the fact that his cousin looked well rested, unlike him.

            As Dudley was eating his special breakfast, uncle Vernon resumed to read from his tablet.

            “Blast, the internet is down.” he remarked in a frustrated tone when a web page couldn’t be opened.

            “I, uh,” started Dudley, scratching the back of his head, “ _may_ have tripped on the way here on a wire.” he finished lamely.

            “You must have unplugged the router.” said uncle Vernon, as he started to get up.

            “I’ll get it.” offered Harry, moving faster than his uncle.

            Down the hall, Harry went past the cupboard door, while still not acknowledging it, and checked the Wi-Fi router. Indeed, Dudley somehow managed to yank the ethernet cable from the device as he tripped, breaking the plastic cap that secured its position in the port.

            Harry put the cable back in the device, although he was aware that it wouldn’t stay that way if someone moved it again, so he made sure the wire on the floor was against the wall and under the carpet, for good measure.

            “Is it working now?” he shouted.

            As he received confirmation from his uncle, Harry made a move to go back to his meal. But before he could do that, he heard the mailbox opening from behind him. Harry went to collect the mail, which was composed of some postcards, a letter from Marge, uncle Vernon’s sister, and a few bills. But what made Harry’s body go numb with anticipation was the heavy envelope, with a purple wax on the front, depicting a crest that the boy knew too well. It was addressed to him; on the back it said ‘ _Mr H. Potter, Second Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.’_ in green ink.

            “Are you checking for bombs, Harry?” laughed uncle Vernon from the kitchen, making Harry return to reality.

            “We’re going to need a new ethernet cable.” Harry said as he came back to his relatives and gave his uncle the mail. “Dudley broke the plastic thingy when he ripped it out.”

            “I think we have a spare one.” said Vernon, looking at his wife, who nodded in response. “Well, just be more careful in the future, champ.” he said to his son, whose ears were now turning pink at the tips. “Let’s see, postcards from Yvonne in Malta, some bills,” continued Uncle Vernon as he sifted through the mail, “and a letter from Marge.” he remarked, as he opened the contents. “Marge has fallen ill, ate a funny whelk!” he spoke in a concerned voice.

            “Harry, did you get a letter?” asked Dudley, interrupting his father.

            Harry was still standing up, holding the parchment meant for him, staring at it. He jumped slightly when Dudley addressed him.

            “Yeah, I think.” he said lamely as he sat down at the table, his family’s eyes now firmly set upon him.

            “Well?” asked Vernon. “Don’t keep us in suspense. Who’s it from?”

            “Hogwarts.” said Harry, almost trembling.

            There was a moment of pause between the four occupants of the room. Then, shouts began from the three Dursleys, all encouraging Harry to sit down and open the letter. The boy did so, with the nerves from the anticipation almost getting to him as he began to read loudly his letter.

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins this year on September 5 th. You will depart for the school on the 4th.  We await your response by owl/email no later than July 31st._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall._

            As he finished, Harry immediately sought to read the second page of his letter. It noted the following equipment: three sets of black robes to wear over his other clothes, a winter cloak, a pair of dragon hide gloves for protection, a list of books for his courses, a wand, a pair of scales, a cauldron, a telescope and a set of vials. At the bottom, however it said that students were allowed to bring muggle devices with them to Hogwarts, as was their right given by the Educational Decree Nº 22, but it was also reminded that owning such devices in Hogwarts was not mandatory. The letter then said something about first years not being allowed to have broomsticks and that they could bring an owl, cat or toad as pets.

            Harry was then completely overwhelmed with joy. He was going to Hogwarts, _finally_. He had to admit to himself that deep down he thought he would never get the letter in time, or that he would be told that they made a mistake telling him that he was a wizard and make him forget or something... But now he possessed the irrefutable evidence that he was indeed going to the school.

            Vernon and Petunia tried to take control of the situation and calm down the over excited Harry, while managing and equally ecstatic Dudley, who was jumping up and down with his cousin, yelling something unintelligible. But there would be no calming Harry down for some time.

            After a while, Harry managed to send to McGonagall an email, saying he got the letter and that he accepts his enrolment into the school. He even scanned his signature and his relatives’ for good measure. McGonagall responded nearly an hour later, giving him details of how to get to Platform 9¾. She also reminded Harry that tomorrow after breakfast he was supposed to be escorted to Diagon Alley to purchase his equipment. Harry wondered if she was going to come herself to guide him, or if she would send someone in her stead.

            Harry got his answer the next day, when, after gulfing down his breakfast (much to his aunt’s displeasure), the doorbell rang. The boy jumped from the seat before anyone could stop him and opened the front door. There, right on his doorstep was a giant man, taller than anyone Harry had ever seen, massive, with long bushy hair and beard, smiling ear to ear. He had to crouch a little to see Harry.

            “Hello there, Harry!” the man said.

            “Erm... Hello?” said Harry, unsure.

            “Oh, where me manners?” he said as he shook Harry’s hand with a palm as big as trashcan lids. “Name’s Hagrid, Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts.”

            Harry made a small sound of recognition and resumed his initial excitement. He knew about Hagrid, as McGonagall sometimes mentioned him in her emails about the school. Of course, she never said anything about the man being part giant, at least.

            “Harry, who’s at the door?” asked Petunia, who made a remarkably similar expression to Harry when she noticed Hagrid.

            “Mrs Dursley.” said Hagrid with a tight voice. “I’m here to help Harry buy his school supplies. Will that be okay with yeh? Name’s...”

            “Hagrid... I think I know you.” said Petunia, looking straight at the giant man’s face and narrowing her eyes. “You were there, at the diner.” she exclaimed after a moment.

            Hagrid looked elsewhere, but Harry could see red cheeks under al that facial hair. The man stammered something, before coughing loudly.

            “Well, we best be goin’ now, Harry.” said Hagrid, motioning for him.

            “Take care of him and have him home by 5, Hagrid.” said Petunia, before she closed the door behind Harry.

            The boy was stunned at first. Here was this man that he didn’t know, promising him to take him to Diagon Alley, which went against some of his teachings about ‘stranger danger’, but aunt Petunia seemed to know and _trust_ this man on some level.

            “How do you and aunt Petunia know each other?” asked Harry as they reached the bus station.

            “Well, I have to tell yeh to ask your aunt abou’ that.” said Hagrid in a gruff voice. “Now, aren’ yeh excited?” he continued, changing subjects.

            As Harry went on a tirade about the areas of magic he wished to learn about, Hagrid pulled out something like a large tablet or at least a small T.V. screen from one of his pockets (who Harry suspected were enchanted to be bigger on the inside) and tapped slowly and deliberately, while he made a few comments to Harry’s side of the conversation.

            “Where can I get one of those?” asked Harry after Hagrid finished with what he was doing.

            “A phone?” asked Hagrid. “Didn’ yer relatives give yeh one? I know yeh’re a kid an’ all, Harry, but they musta be able ter reach yeh somehow!” he said angrily.

            “They did ask if they could give me one.” explained Harry calmly. “I said no, given that I would need a wizard phone when I got to Hogwarts and that would mean they would spend money for nothing.”

            “Oh, so yeh were asking...”

            “Where is the store for wizard phones.” intoned Harry, slightly confused. “What did you think I was asking?”

            “’S... never mind.” Hagrid shook his head rapidly, making his beard look like a small dog shaking. “The store is called _WizTech_ , they have a few shops here and there, bu’ the biggest one is in Diagon. You can buy almost any muggle device from there.

            “Are all WizTech devices so large?” asked Harry before he could stop himself. 

            “Ah... not really.” said Hagrid with embarrassment. “Dumbledore commissioned this special edition of _Corralle_ for me.” he explained as he showed the phone to Harry, who needed both hands to secure it. It looked very much like a normal phone, although Harry suspected it worked far better than its muggle counterpart.

            “Albus Dumbledore? The Headmaster? That was nice of him.” said Harry as tried several times to unlock the phone by sliding.

            “Yeah. Great man, Dumbledore. Great man.” agreed Hagrid.

            “So how are we getting there?” Harry asked, handing back the giant man’s phone to him.

            “Ah, almos’ forgot.” said Hagrid as he tapped a few times on his phone then put it back in his pocket. “There, that should do it. Should arrive in a minute or so.”

            “I don’t suppose you called for a broomstick or a motorcycle.” joked Harry.

            Hagrid just gave a booming laugh as a small _bang_ was heard from the distance. The next second, a purple three story bus was in front of them. Then, a lad that was barely seventeen, with protruding ears and quite a few pimples, came from the front of the vehicle.

            “’Ello, my name’s Stan Shunpike and this is the Knight Bus.” he said in a monotone voice. “I’m to be... Ah, ‘Agrid!” he cheered up when he saw the giant.

            “Mornin’, Stan!” greeted Hagrid the teenager. He got up with a small grunt and motioned for Harry to follow him. Hagrid paid Stan some silver coins and got two tickets from him. “The Leaky Cauldron, if yeh don’t mind.”

            “Hello.” said Harry in a small voice. Stan tried to go for a polite smile, but the fact that he was chewing gum while doing so made him looked rather silly, in Harry’s opinion. He didn’t pay attention to what the conductor and Hagrid were talking about, he was too busy taking in the wonders of the vehicle. It was more spacious on the inside and there were armchairs and tables all around the interior, with a set of stairs to the back that went to the other levels. Harry could see some other wizards and witches littered about, either chatting with their table neighbours or drinking their coffee or tea in silence. Some were reading the newspaper, while others, younger than the rest, Harry noted, used phones. As Harry looked out the window, the sight made him blink in surprise: _they were moving_. He never even felt or heard the Knight Bus start. He supposed he might’ve missed the engine starting, but surely he could not space out enough to miss being thrown back as the bus sped up?

            “Inertia dampenin’ spells.” explained Hagrid after one look at Harry’s face. “Used ter be we were flyin’ around whenever the blasted bus braked.” he intoned in a gruff voice.

            Harry thought it was dead useful, as there would be no need for seatbelts. They appeared to be moving at a very rapid pace, sometimes not even on land. There were a few stops along the way, where some witches and wizards climbed down, but after fifteen minutes or so, the bus was going through the streets of London, stopping on Charing Cross Road, to a seemingly unimportant location. But as Harry looked closer, he could see the sign of a witch stirring into a pot right above a door. There were people passing by it, not paying attention to the door in the slightest.

            Hagrid bid goodbye to Stan and the driver, whose name Harry didn’t catch, and went through the door.

            "This is it – the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place." said Hagrid as they stepped inside.

            For a famous place, Harry thought it was rather shabby looking and quite dark. There were a few women drinking sherry in the back and a few men near the bar, one of them smoking a pipe. The barkeep, an elderly man with no hair on his head, greeted Hagrid with a nearly toothless grin.

            “Ah, Hagrid. The usual, I presume?”

            “No time for drinks, Tom. I’m here on official Hogwarts business.”

            “Who’s your little friend, there?” asked Tom, noticing Harry.

            “This here, is Harry Potter!” intoned Hagrid happily.

            There was a stone cold silence afterwards, Harry noted. While before it wasn’t bustling with noise or chatter, now it was actually quieter than a grave, as what few patrons of the pub were now staring at him through the dim lighting. Then, as if controlled by an unseen force, all of them descended upon Harry, trying to shake his hand, introduce themselves and congratulate him.

            “Martha Gilesbee, delighted to meet you!”

            “My word, Mr Potter, we are so happy to see you here!”

            “Dedalus Diggle, Mr Potter, words cannot describe how thrilled I am to finally meet you!”

            “I know you.” said Harry to Dedalus. “I saw you, once, when I was eight. I was at the superstore with my aunt and cousin.”

            “He remembers me!” he shouted to a positively envious crowd. “See? Harry Potter knows who I am!”

            “Alright, alright!” voice Hagrid loudly after a minute, seeing the slight discomfort on Harry. “No need to hound ‘im, he’s just a kid fer cryin’ out loud!”

            The people surrounding them were suddenly reminded that they were crowding on an eleven year old, and so gave them a wide berth, still shouting thanks to Harry.

            The boy didn’t understand any of it. He was being congratulated, but what for? What did he do that he was so _spectacular_ and widely known for it? It couldn’t have been because he Apparated in the cupboard, he must’ve done _something._

            “Hagrid, why did those people know me?” asked Harry as they went in some small backyard with a brick wall at the end and some trashcans on the right.

            “Didn’ McGonagall tell yeh?” responded the giant man.

            “Not really.” admitted Harry. “She and I never spoke of anything other than wizarding world matters. I asked her once why that bad wizard went after my parents, but she said that it wasn’t appropriate for her to say such things over email.”

            “Well, now is not the time fer it, anyway.” said Hagrid as he took something like a pink umbrella and tapped several bricks in the wall. When he finished, the bricks started to move right before Harry’s eyes, forming an archway. Behind it was a paved road with colourful buildings on either side, bright and cheerful, louder than Harry would have anticipated. There were people scurrying about, chatter running rampant. And there were things on the alley that just screamed _witchcraft,_ like cauldrons, owl, broomsticks, potions, and almost everything one can imagine.

            “Welcome, Harry, to Diagon Alley!” exclaimed Hagrid proudly.

            Harry was happy to take it all in. He was more than excited to purchase his books and other school necessities. He also wanted devices from WizTech, but he remembered that he was on a budget.

            “First, we go ter Gringotts.” said Hagrid as they walked down the shops, as if reading Harry’s mind. “I need ter finish some Hogwarts business and you need to visit yer vault.”

            “My _vault_?” exclaimed Harry, unbelieving. “In the wizard’s bank? But how could I...”

            “Well, you didn’ think yer parents left yeh with nothin’.” said the giant man in a knowing tone.

            Harry wanted to ask more, as this was brand new information to him. He never knew his parents’ financial situation, having no need for it before. He had some idea that they were at least capable of supporting a child, from what Petunia mentioned, but not much else.

            As Harry and Hagrid passed the first set of doors, past the white stairs, they encountered an entrance hall, with another set of doors. There were words engraved on the doors, Harry discovered.

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed_  
_Of what awaits the sin of greed_  
_For those who take, but do not earn,_  
_Must pay most dearly in their turn._  
_So if you seek beneath our floors_  
_A treasure that was never yours,_  
_Thief, you have been warned, beware_  
_Of finding more than treasure there_

            “Yeh’d have ter be mad ter break in Gringotts.” noted Hagrid in a grave voice. Harry had to agree. From what he knew of the security measures, breaking in this place would be incredibly stupid, or at least a sign of insanity.

            The main hall of the bank was a tall, imposing room, with little bald men sitting at high tables made of dark shining wood. They were all very busy, either writing or examining coins or jewellery. _‘Goblins’,_ Harry reminded himself. Although they didn’t seem threatening at first glance, Harry remembered that they had sharp fingernails and teeth, and a thirst for blood. It didn’t help that the lightning in the room made the goblins seem even more dangerous, by placing them in semi-shadows, making them look more mysterious.

            And Hagrid just had to approach the one nearly at the end of the room, with the only table that faced the entrance, while the others face the left and right walls.

            “Hello,” said Hagrid in a gruff voice to the menacing looking goblin, “I’m here regarding You-Know-What in vault You-Know-Which and help Mr Harry Potter here make a withdrawal from his vault.”

            The goblin stopped what he was doing almost immediately. He leaned forward slowly and looked at Harry over his half-moon glasses with an interested expression on his face.

            “Good day...” started Harry, “Chief-Manager Ragnok.” he continued, as he read the golden nameplate in front of the goblin.

            Ragnok smiled, or at least did something that resembled a smile, and looked back to Hagrid.

            “Very well.” he said with a low voice. “And does Mr Harry Potter has his key?” he finished with a well measured tone.

            “Oh, hang on a minute.” said Hagrid as he searched through his pockets, until finally he found a small silver key with an intricate design at the end, and placed it in front of the goblin.

            “This is the key to Mr Potter’s trust vault, am I correct?” he said in an unimpressed tone. How he knew that just from looking at the key, Harry could not figure out.

            “Yes, it is.” said Hagrid, slightly puffing his chest. “And the other matter?” he continued, placing a letter in front of the goblin. Ragnok read it carefully, maintaining the same expression of slight intrigue on his face.

            “All is in order.” he declared. “I will call on my assistant to help you with your business.” he finished as he pressed his palm on a circular device. There was no sound heard, but within a few seconds a pair of doors from the right opened. A younger looking goblin made his way to them, bowing to Ragnok when he arrived, who made a small gesture with his head in recognisance. “Griphook, I ask that you see these two gentlemen to these vaults.” intoned Ragnok with an authoritative voice. “And see that Mr Potter is aware of his finances.” he finished, handing some papers on a clipboard to Griphook.

            “Yes, sir.” he said, bowing once more to Ragnok, before turning to the two heavy doors to the left of his manager. “Follow me, please.” he said to Harry and Hagrid in a high voice.

            “Thank you, Chief-Manager Ragnok.” said Harry as he left, trying to replicate the small bow Griphook made, hoping he did not make a fool of himself. But Ragnok seemed surprised, to say the least, and did the exact same gesture he did to Griphook, while mouthing something like ‘You are welcome.’ to Harry.

            The heavy doors opened and Harry, Hagrid and Griphook stepped in a stone tunnel. At the end there was a railroad and a cart with two lights on its front, guarded by two armoured goblins.

            The cart was spacious enough, which was a blessing in itself, considering Hagrid’s size. As they began to move, Harry noted that they were actually going down, deep under London.

            “Mr Potter, let me welcome you into Gringotts.” said Griphook, turning to Harry, who was having a hard time trying to remember all the turns they took. “Now, we are going to see your trust vault, one that is intended for your personal use until you reach majority. However, given the nature of your situation, the amount the vault receives monthly has been increased to help pay for your education.”

            “Who made the account, or vault?” asked Harry.

            “James and Lily Potter.” Griphook read from the clipboard Ragnok gave him. Harry had his heart in his throat at the mention of his deceased parents, but decided to ignore the feeling for the moment. “The vault was always intended for underage members of the Potter family to use, but James and Lily Potter were the only ones in the last few centuries to exponentially increase the amount. They wanted to make sure (at this he strained a bit to read, as the lightning was suddenly worse the deeper they descended) that you had enough for your education and for yourself at the same time, in the eventuality of their deaths. Monthly deposits for five hundred galleons are made from the main Potter vault, while a sum of five thousand galleons is deposited yearly, on June 1st, starting this year for the next six years.” Griphook finished reading his notes.

            “There is another vault?” asked Harry, now very much curious.

            “Yes, there is the main Potter vault, located deep below us, from which all deposits are made to your trust vault.” the goblin explained, without having to look at the files.

            “And how much, if you don’t mind me asking, is in the main vault?” Harry questioned.

            “Take a look.” smiled Griphook, showing a row of very sharp and pointed teeth as he handed Harry the clipboard.

            The boy took it and strained a bit to read. He was confronted with a lot of numbers and percentages, but he finally found something that looked like a total amount at the bottom. When he did, he had to make sure that he read it properly, or that there was a dot or a comma somewhere he couldn’t see.

            “Are those...” tried Harry, but could not believe what he read.

            “Yes.” answered Griphook simply.

            “That is an _awful lot_ of numbers.” he remarked. He looked at Hagrid out of the corner of his eye and observed that the giant man’s eyebrows were up in his hairline in surprise.

            “Ah, but all of them correct. I made sure myself.” laughed Griphook, a sharp barking sound that made the hair on the back of Harry’s head stand up.

            “Is it... do I have to do anything, sign someone to mange...” tried Harry, but could not say the word fortune.

            “There is no need for you do to anything in particular, yet. All the vaults have been signed to you, as of November 1st 2001, the main vault will be available to you once you are an adult and your finances had no trouble so far. An amount of money like that takes care of itself quite nicely.”

            “You need money to make money.” said Harry to no one in particular. “It’s a muggle phrase.” he explained when he saw Griphook’s questioning look.

            “And one that I approve of. We have arrived.” Griphook informed the two.

            They arrived at a seemingly unremarkable location, with a circular metal door in the wall. Harry, with some help from Hagrid, got out of the cart and stood behind Griphook.

            “Vault 687.” the goblin intoned, as he used the silver key by putting it in a very small opening above his head. The vault door opened with a heavy sound, old hinges creaking under the weight. Inside there were mounds of gold, heaps of silver and towers of bronze, in a cavern the size of the Dursley’s kitchen and living room. And to think, Harry barely accepted to take 500 pounds from his relatives for shopping.

            “I take it everything is in order?” asked Griphook.

            Harry could only nod in response. Griphook then suddenly closed the vault door, much to Harry’s surprise.

            “Place your hand over the door, Mr Potter.” he commanded.

            Harry did as he was told, although he was still completely taken by surprise over the goblin’s act. As he touched the metal door, the cold surface suddenly got very warm under his palm. There was another rumbling coming from the metal, very faint, almost as if the door was far away from Harry. There was a strange feeling going through him, like a trickle of electricity, until it all finally stopped, leaving Harry feeling silly for standing there with his hand shot out.

            “Very well, it seems you are who you claim to be.” said Griphook. “You may remove your hand.” he added with a small laugh.

            “That was a test to see that I am indeed me?” asked Harry.

            “Yes. If it was an impostor, you would have been pushed backwards.” responded Griphook as he went back to the cart. Harry realised that if that were to happen, he would’ve fallen down the abyss under the railroad.

            “But, can I make a withdrawal?” asked Harry desperately, seeing Griphook go back to man the cart.

            “Do not worry, Mr Potter, for the past decades we at Gringotts came to the conclusion that carrying a purse full of coins is rather unpractical, so we accepted new methods of transferring money.” declared the goblin.

            “Like a debit card?” Harry guessed.

            “Yes, in fact. On the main level I will present you with one. It can be used in both muggle and wizarding world.” continued Griphook, as they went in the cart.

            “And how is a... Galleon,” Harry remembered, “worth in British pounds?”

            “One Galleon is worth five British pounds.” answered Griphook, at which Harry nodded. There was a groan coming from Harry’s right. Hagrid was green in the face and was holding a fist to his mouth.

            “Hagrid, are you alright?” asked Harry, turning to the giant man. “You barely said anything the entire ride.”

            “The cart ride makes me feel queasy, Harry.” groaned Hagrid. “Best not ter talk righ’ now.”

            They went for another minute or so, going deeper into the cavern. They stopped at what Griphook announced was vault 713. The door looked even heavier than the one on Harry’s vault. Griphook made some complicated gestures on the door, who opened after numerous locks were heard clicking. Inside there was a small pouch on a pedestal, no bigger than a fist. Harry thought it must be something very important, seeing there was a locked door keeping the object inside. Hagrid took the pouch, placed it inside his coat, and made a shushing sound to Harry.

            “Hogwarts business Harry. Best not mention it ter anyone, yeah?” requested the giant.

            Harry indeed got a debit card a few minutes later. It was a lot like a muggle card, looked very much like it, only it was more durable and heavier than Harry would have expected. He was told that he could use it as he wished, but he could not exceed the current amount in his vault. Harry thanked Griphook for it and promised to use it carefully.

            Hagrid then steered a bubbly Harry to a WizTech outlet, much to the boys delight. This was finally his chance to get a wizard device. As they entered the store, Harry was very much reminded of every high end electronics store he saw. There were a few people in, trying various devices and models, with a few store clerks trying to help potential customers. The clerks all wore the same kind of t-shirt, with the WizTech logo and its tagline ( _Which tech? WizTech.)_ , a grey shirt whose words glowed at random times, making them look like walking disco balls.

            Harry spent the next few minutes trying to decide what to purchase, with some help from Hagrid, who gave helpful comments here and there. Finally, Harry wanted to make a purchase he could be prod of, and now that he could afford it, bought a laptop, a tablet and a phone, all _Titan_ models, who were the latest generation available on the market. He knew little about computer specifications, but what he remembered from what his uncle taught him, the devices he bought seemed good enough.

            Hagrid offered to carry the packages, despite being incredibly light even to Harry. The latter wanted to purchase his books next, but Hagrid reminded him that it wasn’t necessary anymore: “Blimey, Harry, yeh wouldn’ want ter carry books with yeh when yeh can buy them electronically?” Of course, the giant man was right. So, after getting his robes fitted from a shop called Madam Malkin’s and getting his other various equipment from other stores, he finally went to Ollivander’s to get a wand.

            “Ah, just remembered, Harry, I need ter finish some business. Won’ be long now, just go inter the shop and buy yer wand. If you can, that is.” Hagrid laughed as he nudged Harry to Ollivander’s. Harry had no idea what he meant by that, but went in anyway. Inside the dusty and dingy shop, there were rows upon rows of rectangular boxes, who seemed to span every wall. There was a sound of wheels and a man with grey hair and fancy robes appeared on a ladder, somewhere in front of Harry. The man had a knowing smile on his face and spoke with a rich, low voice.

            “Good day, Mr Potter. Yes, I know who you are,” he said noticing Harry’s blink of surprise as he climbed down the ladder, “you are rather famous in these parts. I waited for the chance to present you with your wand, as I did for your parents when they were your age.”

            “You did?” asked Harry a bit too hastily, but Ollivander seemed happy to answer him.

            “Yes, I did. I remember every wand I ever sold, Mr Potter. You will find that there are no two wands completely alike, as there are no two wizards or witches completely the same. I usually use three cores for the wand,” he explained as he looked around his shop, “the materials that channel the magic from the user to the wand: phoenix feathers, dragon heartstrings and unicorn hair. Now, what hand is your dominant one?” asked Ollivander, turning to Harry.

            “My right one.” answered Harry. Immediately, a seamstress tape started flowing around Harry, measuring different aspects of him, like the length from his fingers to his elbow, the circumference of his hand and so forth, all which seemed rather ridiculous to Harry, but he said nothing, instead he listened to Ollivander speak.

            “Now, there are different types of wood that make the body of the wand, all for different purposes. Say, a wand’s wood could make it better at transfiguration or charms, depending on its nature. For example, your father’s wand wood was mahogany, excellent for Transfigurations, while your mother preferred a willow one, more useful for Charms. Now, I would like you to try this one, Mr Potter, thirteen and a half inches, alder with unicorn tail hair...” the elder wandmaker said as he handed Harry a box.

            What happened for the next few minutes was that Harry tried almost three dozen wands, each of them either producing disastrous results or none at all. The boy was slowly losing confidence, as he remembered Hagrid’s words. But Ollivander seemed positively delighted at the situation, pleased to have such a tricky customer.

            “I wonder...” pondered Ollivander, looking at his shelves. He reached out and took one from the highest shelf, a dusty black box of no distinction. “Eleven inches, holly and phoenix feather, nice and supple.”

            Harry held the wand, whose handle suddenly went warm, like the vault door. With a flick of his wrist, Harry somehow made all of the wands that he went through go back in their boxes and on the shelves. For a moment, he was completely over the moon, as he finally produced magic of his own free will, with his own proper wand. But the object in question started to shake in his hand, almost violently so. Harry’s eyes went wide with fear and tried to stop the wand somehow, but it was too late: the wand _exploded_ right in his hand with the sound of a small bomb, leaving behind a contour of itself, made of golden sparkles that then disappeared into Harry’s hand.

            The boy was shocked and terrified that he did something wrong, but Ollivander exclaimed with joy, something that made Harry think the man was slightly off his rocker.

            “Ohooo, _splendid_! Why, Mr Potter, I had hoped it would be the case, but it is still _extraordinary_ , to say the least!” the man clapped his hands.

            “I – I’m so sorry, Mr Ollivander, I don’t know...”

            “Nonsense,” waved Ollivander dismissively, “you did nothing wrong. What just happened was a testament to the evolution of the wizarding generations. There are some wizards and witches, like yourself, that _bond_ with their wand so strongly, the wand _attaches_ itself to their magic, permanently. It is a rather recent occurrence, the talent surfaced sometime in the last two centuries and it did so rarely. Nowadays, more and more young magical children seem to posses the talent for wandless magic, like yourself.”

            “So... I _didn’t_ break it?” Harry asked to be sure.

            “You did, in a sense.” laughed Ollivander. “The wand’s power is now permanently attached to you.”

            “But... _why_?” exclaimed Harry. “Nothing I read about in what Professor McGonagall sent _remotely mentioned this_!” he shrieked, looking at his hands in horror.

            “Ah.” Ollivander made a noise of understanding. “You must forgive Minerva, she always had a habit of forgetting about certain details. It was discovered” Ollivander recited “two centuries ago, like I mentioned, that certain witches and wizards had no need for wands, instead they performed magic without it. Of course, it was not unheard of; some could use magic without wands, to some extent, but as it came to light some individuals were able to take a wand’s power in themselves and use it as a normal witch or wizard, only without the actual wand. Imagine how every wandmaker felt at the time, thinking they would go out of business, the government officials frightened that they would have no means of punishing criminals by taking their source of casting magic. But wandlessers, as we came to call the likes of you, Mr Potter, still needed to obtain a wand before it bonded with them and several methods of stopping a wandlesser’s use of magic were invented, in case they were needed.” he finished telling. “Instead of channelling your magic through it, you will channel it through your own body, more so in your hands. Useful, don’t you think? But I find it curious that particular wand was meant for you.”

            “What do you mean?” asked Harry, still reeling from before.

            “The wand chooses the wizard, Mr Potter. It’s not always clear why. But,” he made a dramatic pause,” I think in this case it is clear. The phoenix whose feather was in your wand gave another feather to a wand. Just one other. The same wand that gave you that scar.” he pointed at Harry’s forehead.

            It was unfortunate that Hagrid chose that exact moment to enter the shop, interrupting Harry’s next question. Hagrid and Ollivander chatted for a bit, something about Hagrid wand’s remains. Harry paid for his wand, the one he would never feel in his hands and went outside.

            “Here, Harry, I know it’s a bit early, but I wanted ter give yeh a present anyhow.” the man proclaimed, showing Harry a snowy owl in a cage. Harry’s eyes went wide with joy, thanking Hagrid every five seconds, while inspecting the owl, who patiently waited for the boy to finish. The pair made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron for some food and something for Hagrid to calm his nerves after his debacle with the cart ride.

            “Hagrid, can you tell me now why did my parents die?” asked Harry once they were sitting down at their table in the pub.

            “Well, You-Know-Who killed them, Harry.”

            “I know that,” said Harry in a slightly angry tone, frustrated with people’s attempts at circumventing the issue. “I meant _why_ did he kill them?”

            “Honestly, I don’t know.” confessed Hagrid. “It may be that they were a target ter him because your father was a pure-blood, a wizard whose parents are also wizards, and your mother was a muggleborn. Yeh see, there are people who think that havin’ children with muggleborns ‘dilutes’ their bloodline and other such crap.” he grumbled, apparently not caring that he said a bad word in the presence of a child. “You-Know-Who believed in this blood purity and so he wanted to eradicate all muggles and muggleborns. Yer parents opposed him, naturally.”

            “So how come they died but I lived?”

            “That’s the thing, Harry,” Hagrid lowered his tone to a mere whisper, “no one knows how yeh did it; it was supposed to be impossible to survive the curse that kills, much less when it came from You-Know-Who when he wanted ter kill yeh. That’s why yeh’re famous, Harry, yeh survived the Killing Curse. Yeh’re the Boy Who Lived. More ‘n that, that night he disappeared completely, some say he even died because of yeh.”

            “But I didn’t do anything!” protested Harry. “I was barely one year old when it happened! How could _I_ stand up to a wizard at that age? And why doesn’t anyone tell me his name? I saw ‘You-Know-Who’ every time I looked for a mention of the wizard that did this in the articles McGonagall sent me, but not once his name!” he complained further.

            “Not many know his true name Harry, and I don’t know anyone who does. But we know him under a different name, one that strikes fear inter every wizard and witch who knew abou’ him. You have to understand, Harry, he did some pretty horrible things, most people are ready to forget he ever was real.”

            “But he _is_ real!” exclaimed Harry, gathering some looks from other patrons. “He killed my parents, tried to kill me, gave me this _scar_ and made everyone know me! Please, tell me what his name is, Hagrid. I have to know.” pleaded Harry.

            “Alright, alright, don’ start with me. His name was... his name was Voldemort.” whispered Hagrid with a frightened expression. “I know I shouldn’t be scared of his name anymore, bu’ I can’t keep feelin’ like he’s not completely gone, yeh know? I reckon he’s still out there, somewhere, gatherin’ his strength, biddin’ his time.”

            Harry suddenly got the impression of a dark robe covering a tall person, a glimpse of red eyes and a very cold feeling followed by a green light. He thought the green light was the thing that killed his parents, the curse Hagrid mentioned.

            “Do you think he’ll come back, Hagrid?” asked Harry in a small voice a few moments later, staring into space.

            “I hope he doesn’t, Harry. I really do.” answered Hagrid, taking a sip of the brandy he ordered.

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...we get some explanation for the muggle technology and Harry is a wandlesser. It was so fun to write Ollivander, and I do want to feature him later on. And Hagrid, oh gosh, it's so hard to write his accent. But I love him anyways.  
> Next stop, Hogwarts. (finally)


	4. The Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Harry finally arrives at Hogwarts and makes new friends, he finds out what exactly the Sorting is.

 

 

            Harry spent the remainder of his summer engrossed with his course books, which he almost devoured. Every time a member of his family saw him he was with his face firmly planted in front of his tablet, reading the books he purchased when he got home. His aunt and uncle tried to encourage him to go outside some more, with Dudley, but Harry was desperate to know everything that he could before going to Hogwarts. He didn’t want to fall behind the other students who grew up knowing of magic.

            Harry tinkered with his devices all summer, trying to personalise them the best he could. The boy password protected each of them, as the guide he received with their purchase specified so, with the help of his uncle. Vernon was amazed with his nephew’s laptop, mostly, as it looked like it came from the future, all sleek metallic casing and light weight, not to mention its high end specifications. Harry was just pleased that it was good and working.

            September 4th came on a grey Sunday, with a blanket of clouds covering the sun. Still, the dull weather didn’t dampen Harry’s spirits whatsoever. The boy woke up at seven sharp, showered and freshened up, put his toiletries in his luggage, checking that he had everything in place, then went downstairs, patiently waiting at the kitchen table. His owl then came flying in through the open window and sat on her perch in the corner. (Vernon made a perch for her in the kitchen). Harry named her Hedwig after a name he found in _A History of Magic_. The snowy owl seemed to be highly intelligent at times, when she responded to something Harry said or commented, making the boy develop the habit of actually talking to her out loud.

            “Had a nice night?” Harry asked her, to which the owl hooted two times. “Or should I say ‘mice’ night?” Harry laughed as Hedwig gave a long, disapproving sound. Harry could swear her head was slightly turned to the side. “We’re going to Hogwarts today, isn’t it exciting? I can’t wait to see the school!” the owl agreed with him, ruffling her feathers a bit. Harry continued to chat with her as he got his tablet out of his bag. The only other thing there was his laptop, as he had his phone in his pocket. He wasted time, playing Subway Surfers, until he heard his aunt and uncle come downstairs. He greeted them as they went around to make breakfast. A few minutes later, Dudley came running down, scared that he missed his cousin leaving. He grabbed a very stunned Harry and hugged him close, much to the Dursley’s amusement.

            As Harry made his way with his family to London, by car, Harry spent the last few moments he had with Dudley playing cards.

            “Have any eights?” asked Dudley.

            “Go fish.” responded Harry.

            “So, how are you getting there, again?” asked a driving uncle Vernon.

            “By train. I take the one leaving King’s Cross Station at eleven. Do you have any queens, Dudley?” said Harry.

            “Go fish.” answered Dudley.

            “There is no train leaving at eleven in King’s Cross.” remarked Vernon, frowning.

            “Honey, to get to the platform you need to go trough a wall. Perspective.” responded Petunia evenly.

            Harry and Dudley finished their game just before Vernon parked the car. Dudley won, although Harry could be excused on the account of being distracted. As the Durselys and Harry made their way to the station, Harry was barely holding himself from jumping with excitement. He was pushing his luggage with Hedwig’s cage on top, almost knocking over people in his rush. Although he had a few minutes to spare, Harry was eager to be there on time. He looked back to see his family, who was having a hard time keeping up with him. Far away behind them, Harry thought he saw a family of redheads making its way to the platform.

            As he arrived at the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, he turned around to say goodbye to his family, giving them all a hug.

            “I am going to miss you all.” he declared, voice slightly muffled by his aunt’s cloak.

            “Take care, will you?” said uncle Vernon, ruffling his hair. Dudley hugged him once more, making Harry promise that they would talk regularly. Aunt Petunia crouched to Harry’s level and looked him straight in the eye.

            “Now, I want to to be careful, make friends, study hard and have fun, okay Harry?” she asked almost tearfully. Harry nodded, with a firm ‘Yes!’

             “You be good, you hear me?” she said, finally, as she gave her nephew one last hug before motioning him to the platform. Harry made a small wave to his family, who waved back in a similar manner, before turning to the brick wall. He took a deep breath as he started to roll his cart forward. Twenty feet...fifteen feet...ten feet... there was no stopping now.

            Harry went through the barrier, a second of darkness separating him from platform 9¾. And there it was, the purple engine train with _Hogwarts_ written on it. Harry smiled from ear to ear as he boarded the train and chose a compartment just for him. He continued to sit there alone even as the train started to move out of the station, with a few whistles announcing its departure. Harry gave Hedwig some treats and opened his tablet again to read. He was nearly done with the last chapter of the Defence book, when there were a series of taps on his door.

            “Can we come in? Everywhere else is full.” said a voice after the door was opened.

            Harry raised his head to see two people standing in the doorway: one was a slightly chubby boy with brown hair, blue eyes and shy expression, while the other was a bushy-haired girl with brown eyes and determined air about her.

            “Sure, yeah, of course.” stammered Harry.

            The two thanked the boy and promptly sat down.

            “I’m Neville Longbottom.” said the boy with a low voice.

            “I’m Hermione Granger.” the girl spoke in a bossy tone. “And you are...?”

            “Harry. Harry Potter.” offered Harry.

            Of course, Harry was prepared for some kind of reaction, but in the quiet of the compartment, the two gasps the other children gave made him jump.

            “Are you really?” asked the girl in a shrill voice. “I read _all_ about you first chance I got...”

            “Wait, sorry, _what?_ ” interrupted Harry. “What _did_ you read? An article? A book?” exclaimed Harry, making Hermione feel a bit put out.

            “There are several books about you.” said Neville. “I have read a few, I mean who hasn’t...”

            “ _I haven’t_!” protested Harry. “Never mind that, what did they say?” he asked, turning to Hermione, who got back some of her enthusiasm at this.

            “Well, it said that you are a powerful wizard who defeated You-Know-Who when you were one year old, but that’s the only point in which the authors agree on. The rest just contradicts itself.” she commented. “I mean, it’s not true that you train with the Unspeakables every week, do you?”

            “Train? With _whom_ and for _what_?” sputtered Harry. “This is... _silly_!” he exclaimed, so frustrated he could not find a better word for the situation

            Neville laughed, the tension in him seemingly going away. Hermione seemed to be in thought, most likely realising not everything she read about him was true.

            “I will have to talk to someone about this, they can’t keep saying lies about me! Isn’t it slander?” said Harry.

            “Technically it’s libel, but close enough.” remarked Hermione. “Well, I just thought it was best to read _everything_ I could about the wizarding world, ever since I found out I was a witch.” she recited. “All sorts of books, of spells and history and the culture... It all seems so fascinating! Especially now that they can use electrical devices in areas of magic!”

            Harry was taken aback by the sheer force that this little girl was proving to be when it came to knowledge. And he thought _he_ was bad. Clearly, Hermione Granger was in another league entirely. She continued to talk about what she read and how excited she was. Harry could see beneath that know-it-all exterior she was terrified about what she was stepping into, the unknown factor of it all.

            “I know how you feel, Hermione, I didn’t know about the magical world until recently.” said Harry compassionately. “I did the same thing you’re doing now.”

            “You didn’t know?” asked Neville.

            “No.” responded Harry. “I live with my aunt and uncle, and they didn’t tell me about it until later on. But what about you two. We’ve mostly talked about me so far, but I want to know about you!” Harry changed subjects.

            “Well,” started Neville. “I live with my grandmother in our house. My relatives thought that I was a Squib until I performed magic when my great uncle Algie held me by my ankles on the balcony, accidentally let me go and I sort of bounced down the courtyard.” he continued, noting the other two’s horrified expressions. “Well, he didn’t mean it!” Neville defended his uncle.

            “Be that as it may, it’s still child endangerment!” shrieked Hermione, and Harry had to agree with her. “What was he thinking, _dangling a child by his ankles above a balcony_? You could have been severely injured, _or worse_!”

            “He just tried to provoke a magical reaction out of me.” mumbled Neville, looking at his shoes.

            “ _PROVOKE_ –“started Hermione to shout, but Harry stopped her.

            “Hermione, shouting will not help now. You’re making Neville feel bad.”

            “But I – “she tried, but one look at Neville proved Harry’s words. “I’m sorry, Neville, for raising my voice. I shouldn’t have.” she apologised.

            “It’s fine.” he waved his hand.

            “No, it’s really not. You did nothing wrong. Your uncle did.” she finished.

            “Neville,” started Harry, “forgive me for asking, but how did he hope to provoke a magical reaction out of you, and why was he so adamant to do it?”

            “My parents were Aurors, you know?” he looked to see if Harry and Hermione understood what that meant. “So they had high expectations of me, but I never did anything remarkable. After a while, my aunts, uncles and grandmother tried almost everything to see if I had magic. You know, cause accidental magic out of me.”

            Harry and Hermione exchanged a look. While they’ve known each other for only a few minutes, it was clear to the both of them that they disagreed completely with Neville’s situation.

            “Neville, we’re sorry you had to go through with that.” said Harry in a calm tone.

            The other boy just nodded, and the three of them focused on Hermione, instead. They found out her parents were both muggles, dentists to be exact, and that they were thrilled that Hermione was a witch. She revealed that she always thought something was weird with her and that she was happy that she knew what it was now. Harry spoke a little about life with his relatives, when the conversation suddenly turned to Hogwarts.

            “So, which House do you think you’ll be in?” asked Hermione, but gave no pause for the boys to respond. “I personally think it’s going to be Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. How about you?”

            “Probably Hufflepuff.” said Neville in a defeated tone. “I mean, that’s where I want to go, where it’s nice and peaceful.”

            “I wouldn’t count so much on that, Neville. Most Grand Duellers come from Hufflepuff, after all.” remarked Harry, smiling at Neville’s incredulous expression.

            “Then Hufflepuff would gain a great addition.” affirmed Hermione. “What about you, Harry?”

            “Honestly?” he answered. “As long as I’m in Hogwarts, I don’t care which House I end up in.”

            “Even if that House is Slytherin?” asked Neville.

            “What’s wrong with Slytherin?” asked Hermione and Harry at the same time.

            “Well,” said Neville uncomfortably, “it’s just that there are some in Slytherin whose parents followed You-Know-Who. They would be bound to seek revenge.”

            “For something their parents, _adults_ , “emphasised Harry, “did? It’s ridiculous to think that they would hate me for being the reason their parents’ master disappeared. We’re just kids.”

            Neville looked ready to contradict him, but said nothing. Instead, Hermione pulled out a phone from her clothes, and looked at the screen, concentrating. Her phone was smaller than Harry’s, but it was new nonetheless.

            “We should be there in a few hours.” she remarked, looking at a map.

            “Isn’t it funny how a few decades ago these things didn’t even register through wizard minds?” asked Harry in an amused tone, whipping out his own phone.

            “We should exchange numbers.” said Hermione in a commanding voice, at which Harry nodded and gave her his device. “Neville?” asked Hermione, waiting for his phone number.

            “I... don’t have one.” he admitted. “Gran didn’t want me to have one. Said it’s ‘improper’ for a young wizard to own one.” he finished, frowning.

            “Neville, your grandmother can’t stop you from having one. It’s your decision whether you bring one to Hogwarts or not.” Hermione recited from memory.

            “She still decides if she buys me one.” said Neville sadly.

            Having said that, Harry could not help but feel sorry for the boy, whose family was obviously old fashioned and that bothered poor Neville, who wanted nothing more than to fit in.

            “All I’ve got to show for is this ruddy toad.” Neville said as he pulled something green and small from his cloak. “His name is Trevor.” he said, a bit more happily.

            “He seems nice.” said a surprised Hermione. “I have to ask,” the girl said, lowering her voice to a whisper, “are you both wandlessers?”

            “Yeah.” answered Harry and Neville at the same time, only Neville was a bit more enthusiastic than Harry about it.

            “So am I!” exclaimed Hermione. “Oh, this is great! All three of us, wandlessers! I read that we are supposed to be more in tune with our magic and be able to channel it even better than others. Not even _Dumbledore_ is one!” she said, proudly.

            “Gran wasn’t that impressed, because she wanted me to use father’s wand, but it didn’t work, so she had to take me to Ollivander’s.” said Neville.

            “I was just really glad the wand didn’t just hate me, or something.” Harry deadpanned, making the other two laugh.

            They talked some more, before the boys put their robes over their clothes as the train slowed down. The three of them took their luggage with them and went to the platform, barely making their way through the older students. Once outside, there was a booming voice talking over the general chatter of the students.

            “Firs’ years, gather ‘round! Firs year, over here! C’mon now!” intoned the voice.

            Harry immediately turned to the source of the commotion to discover Hagrid standing at the end of the platform, holding something that resembled a glow stick, only it illuminated the front, rather than every direction.

            “Hagrid!” Harry yelled as he neared the giant.

            “Hello, there, Harry! Had a nice summer?” Harry nodded. “Well, best be on yer way. No more than four in a boat!” he shouted to the small crowd of eleven year olds.

            Harry, Neville and Hermione chose a boat that was closest to him, along with a blonde girl with pigtails.

            “Hello.” she said politely. “I’m Hannah Abbott.” the girl introduced herself as she sat down in the boat with the trio. “Hi, Neville!” she said in a bubbly voice when she recognised the boy.

            “Hey, Hannah. Oh, these two are Hermione Granger,” he said, pointing at her with his hand, “and... Harry.” he finished, clearly trying to spare Harry another wave of questions. Unfortunately for him, Hannah caught right on to it.

            “Harry? Harry what?” she asked the green eyed boy as the boat proceeded to row itself behind the one Hagrid was in.

            “Rhymes with ‘otter’.” Harry joked.

            It took Hannah a second, but she understood, laughing so hard the boat actually shook as it moved through the dark waters.

            “Well, it’s very nice to meet you, mister Potter and miss Granger.” Hannah said with a smile, after calming herself.

            “Likewise.” Hermione returned the sentiment.

            They fell silent for a few moments as they went trough a cavern of sorts, with only the light from Hagrid as their guiding source.

            “Spooky.” commented Hannah in a mock-scary voice.

            “I knoooow.” whispered and amused Harry, imitating a ghost.

            “So help me, if any of you do anything to scare me...” Hermione warned them, but Harry just laughed it off.

            As they went through the cavern and past some ivy, they were greeted by the sight of a large castle, with numerous towers, taller than anything Harry had ever seen in real life. The castle itself looked, aside from ancient, imposing in the dark light, like it was an actual force. Harry realised that it was actually a feeling that he was getting, not something he could see. The air around the castle was filled with power, with _magic_.

            As they reached the shore, Hagrid shouted to the first years to follow him up the stairs leading to the castle. Harry helped a clumsy Neville get out of the boat, when the latter nearly fell into the lake. Hermione reproached him to be more careful, almost in a mother like tone, while Hannah laughed and patted Neville slightly on the back before moving on with the others.

            The four of them followed Hagrid closely, taking in the mesmerising castle in front of them. Harry was having a hard time not urging the giant man to go faster so that he could enter the castle already, but he reminded himself to be patient.

            They came across a set of double oaken doors with carvings. Hagrid knocked loudly, four times, and the doors opened with a creak. Beyond them was an entrance hall bigger than the Dursley’s home itself. Harry was suddenly reminded of a cathedral, with the high celling and enormous space. There were sconces on the wall, half bowls with pointed ends at the bottom, casting the hall in an orange light, much like a candle would.

            “Thank you, Hagrid, I will take it from here.” said a voice, curtly. Hagrid nodded and went behind another set doors beyond the hall. Harry could glimpse light inside and a few tables. Professor McGonagall stood before the crowd of forty new students. She noted that some seemed rather nervous than others, most being from non-wizarding families. Others were more in control of their nerves, but not by much. She caught Harry’s eyes and gave him a half smile, one the boy returned fully.

            “Now,” she intoned with her commanding voice, quieting any noise from the students, “before we begin, I would like to say a few words.”

            The atmosphere changed suddenly. Everyone was hanging on to her every word, desperate for the whole ordeal to be finished.

            “Beyond these doors are your future classmates and teachers, awaiting for you to go through the Sorting Ceremony. This ceremony will determine which of the four Houses of Hogwarts you will be placed in for the duration of your time here.” she explained, looking over everyone in the hall. Harry had a sudden feel of panic. The Professor never divulged how the ceremony was conducted. He knew about it and the four Houses, naturally, but he didn’t exactly knew what he was supposed to be doing. He tried looking for it online, but all he found were a few mentions of a hat, nothing specific.

            “There are four Houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin.” continued McGonagall in the same tone. “Your House will be like your family to you. Your triumphs will earn you points. Any rule breaking, will lose you points.” she warned. “At the end of the year,” she raised her voice slightly to avoid the oncoming murmurs from the children, “the House with the most points wins the House Cup. Now, follow me.” she finished, turning around and opening the doors with a gesture of her wand.

            Harry and his friends followed the stern Professor to the Great Hall, with the rest of the first years behind him. The sight of the room was _astonishing_. The celling itself looked like the night’s sky, complete with clouds, stars and constellations, making Harry feel like they were outside. Hermione remarked that much, stating she read it in _Hogwarts: A History_. Wall sconces were present as well, but the centre of the room had a floating glass chandelier that seemed to illuminate with no definite light source, instead its mere presence casted soft light all over the room.  There were five long tables in the room, four that started from near the doors and ended near the fifth, who faced the entrance. The four tables had a row of banners above them, each one different. Starting from the far right, they were a lion with gold and red, a raven with blue and bronze, a badger with yellow and black and a snake with green and silver. The occupants of the last table seemed to be the teachers, eleven of them of them, plus Hagrid. At the middle, sitting on a golden chair resembling a throne, was the oldest person Harry ever saw: long silvery beard that reached the man’s chest, wrinkled skin and half moon glasses on a broken, pointy nose. The man was dresses in _purple_ of all things and smiled serenely at the students who were approaching.

            “Welcome, to another year at Hogwarts!” he said, standing up and greeting his students. “For those of you who do not know me, I am Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of the school.” he introduced himself. “Now, I know you are all starving, so I will keep my beginning of the term speech for after the Sorting. Do not worry, it will be be brief. I could send a mass text to you all, to save time.” he chuckled, earning him a few laughs from the students sitting down. McGonagall coughed twice, slightly, stifling a smile, making Dumbledore sober up. “Now, without further ado, let the Sorting Ceremony begin!” he declared, sitting down in time for the polite applause. McGonagall pointed her wand at the ground before her, making a stool appear out of nothing. Harry’s eyes bugged out in sheer surprise, wondering when he would learn such a spell. But his reaction was nothing compared to Hermione’s, who let out a small ‘ooh’ in admiration. The Professor then produced a bound scroll and a pointy hat from _somewhere_ , but Harry suspected that she had the items on her person all this time, he simply failed to notice them. She placed the hat on the stool, and then waited. From near the base of the object, a stitch suddenly unravelled and the object _spoke_.

 _Oh you may not think I'm pretty,_  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
  
You can keep your bowlers black  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
if you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folks use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!

 

            As the rather melodic speech the hat delivered ended with the polite applause from the room, McGonagall addressed the first years once more.

            “When I call your name, you will sit on the chair and place the Hat on your head.” she intoned.

            Harry made a noise of understanding, finally getting what all the mentions of a hat that he found meant. He might’ve made too loud a noise, as several people around him suddenly glanced at him. McGonagall seemed not to notice, or at least was polite enough to let this one slip. She unbound the scroll and read the first name: “Abbott, Hannah!” The blonde girl went merrily to the stool and placed the Hat on top of her head. After a few seconds, the Hat screamed “HUFFLEPUFF!” which made the second table from the right stand up and explode in applause. The trim on Hannah’s robes changed to a golden colour and a badge with the insignia of Hufflepuff appearing on her chest. Soon, everybody was sent to their respective Houses, as the list continued. As Hermione reached the stool and placed the Hat, it immediately shouted “RAVENCLAW”, a little to Harry’s disappointment. The same happened to Neville, who was placed in Gryffindor the second the Hat touched his head. Harry was a little upset, having two of his friends, three if he counted Hannah, in completely different places. He looked at the teacher’s table, having little else to do. He observed each teacher waiting patiently for the Sorting to end. Two seats from Dumbledore’s right, Hagrid waved with a smile at Harry, who returned the sentiment. Beside him stood a small wizard, who Harry was vaguely reminded of a goblin. Next to him, however, was a man with dark hair reaching his jaw, in black robes, sallow skin and a hooked nose. His expression was unreadable, but as Harry caught his glimpse, the man suddenly narrowed his eyes at him, as if he was trying to understand him. Harry felt a sharp pain in his forehead, in his _scar_. That _never_ happened before. Harry clenched his jaw in pain, to stifle any sound he might’ve made, but the feeling disappeared as soon as it came, when the man in black robes was distracted when his colleague to his right, with a purple turban on his head, turned back around to speak with him.

            Harry turned his attention to the Sorting. Someone called Draco Malfoy was walking to the stool. His robes looked elegant and expensive, and he held himself with an air of confidence and superiority, something not commonly seen with the other few first years. Most of the people like this Draco went to Slytherin, Harry observed. It did not came as a surprise when the Hat shouted “SLYTHERIN” the moment it touched his head. Draco Malfoy went to the Slytherin table, pleased with the applause he was getting. On his way, he caught Harry’s stare and gave him a half smile. If he gave any indication that he knew who Harry was just by looking at him, Harry could not ponder further, as his name was suddenly called.

            “Potter, Harry!” shouted McGonagall.

            The whispers and murmurs started almost immediately. _The_ Harry Potter? _The Boy-Who-Lived_? Harry heard some of it while walking to the chair, with hundreds of eyes set firmly upon him. The stares unnerved him, not being used to that much attention from his peers, but it was all quickly muted as McGonagall placed the Hat on his head.

            _“Hm... difficult, very difficult._ ” said the Hat with a voice that sounded like it came from Harry’s mind. “ _Plenty of courage I see... hm... a brilliant mind, and there’s talent. And a thirst to prove yourself. But where to put you?_ ” the Hat drawled out.

            Harry had no idea what to say, what to ask of the enchanted object. His friends were all in different Houses, choosing one over the other would make him feel like he was choosing between his friends.

            _“Ah, and there is that_ loyalty _of yours. The need to make sure you treat everyone equally. Hufflepuff would be a great place for you, but your trust, especially in yourself, is limited. You are not sure of yourself. Ravenclaw would prize you greatly, with a mind as capable as yours, your thirst for knowledge drives you, but you are restrictive of your knowledge, you know that it’s important to hold some for yourself. Your determination to do what is right would certainly place you in Gryffindor, but placing you in there would be too easy, and you are not one to take the easy way out. No, you are ambitious, cunning, and determined. There is only one place for you, Harry Potter._ SLYTHERIN!” the hat shouted the last word out loud.

            Dead silence fell in the Great Hall. _No one_ expected that to happen. To have Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived placed in the House that would normally produce bad wizards was _mind blowing_. The Gryffindors were the most disappointed, in fact, and it showed on their faces.

            After the momentary shock, the Slytherin table stood up proudly and cheered for Harry, with smug look on their faces to anyone else. Harry made his way to the table, not knowing what to expect or where to sit. His salvation came in the form of Draco Malfoy, who apparently saved him a seat. The blond haired boy gave him a half smile and invited Harry to sit beside him. Harry now found himself between Draco and an older student, who had a badge with a _P_ on his robes.

            “Draco Malfoy.” the boy offered his hand.

            “Harry, Harry Potter.” he shook the boy’s hand as firmly as he could.

            “I know.” the other boy said in a confident tone, letting go of Harry’s hand. “This is Adrian Pucey, fifth year Slytherin Prefect.” he motioned to the boy to Harry’s right.

            “Welcome to Slytherin, Potter.” greeted Pucey. “Do be careful of what you do while you are in this House.” he warned. “Our Head of the House is not pleased with rule breakers and those that bring shame to Slytherin.”

            “Who is he?” asked Harry.

            “Professor Snape. He is the one in dark robes, next to Quirrell, who has the purple turban.” Pucey pointed out. Harry suddenly got a feeling of dread as Snape looked at him disbelieving.

            “He teaches Potions, correct?” Harry asked Draco, turning his back to the aforementioned Professor.

            “Yeah, how did you know?” asked Draco.

            “McGonagall sent me about the wizarding world ever since I turned seven. I read some mentions about him, but I didn’t know he was a teacher here.”

            “ _Seven_?” asked an incredulous Draco. “You didn’t know before you were a wizard?”

            “No, I didn’t.” explained Harry, not understanding the other boy’s sudden outrage. “My relatives didn’t tell me until I performed some serious magic that even I couldn’t think I imagined it, so they called McGonagall to explain it all to me, and she has been giving me reading material ever since. My relatives are muggles, you see.”

            Harry immediately noticed that it was the wrong thing to say, as several people around him suddenly turned to him in surprise. Draco had his mouth agape, which looked odd on him, while Pucey was trying not to laugh at the blond boy.

            “ _Muggles_! We were all under the impression you were being raised by our kind!” he sputtered angrily.

            “Well, clearly you were misinformed.” said Harry airily, enjoying to toy with Draco, who know had red across his face. “People keep writing things about me that are not true, but I didn’t know this until today, until someone told me about it.” he finished, frowning.

            “Who was that?” demanded Draco, clearly trying to recover from earlier.

            It was at that moment that Harry spotted Hermione at the Ravenclaw table. He waved at her, and she waved back, before grabbing her phone and typing something. Harry’s own phone vibrated as he received a text from the girl.

            Hermione: _You okay there by yourself?_

Harry: _I’m good, thanks. How are Hannah and Neville?_.

            Hermione: _Hannah is fine, she’s at the other end of the table, joking with people, and Neville looks a bit scared, but he’s slowly calming himself._

            Draco and Pucey both oversaw the exchange. Pucey watched with a curious eye, while Draco was less than impressed.

            “ _Muggleborn_ , is she?” remarked Draco with a strange tone to his voice.

            “Yeah, she is. Bright girl, but _scary_.” Harry joked. “Is something wrong?” he challenged, knowing perfectly the matter at hand.

            But apparently Draco didn’t want to say anything that might upset Harry at the moment, and Pucey ignored the both of them pointedly. Draco changed topics, instead he introduced some of the Slytherins in their year as they joined the table. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were two surly fellows, bigger than Dudley in size, who didn’t say much. There was Theodore Nott, who Harry didn’t pay much attention to, but was polite nonetheless. There were a few girls, namely Daphne Greengrass, Millicent Bulstrode, Pansy Parkinson and Miles Bletchley. Daphne and Millicent were nice enough to Harry, Miles was reading something and only stopped enough to greet Harry, and Parkinson barely acknowledged Harry at all, making Draco stiff and glare in her direction. As Blaise Zabini joined them at the Slytherin table, a charming boy with bright eyes, the Sorting Ceremony ended.

            Dumbledore stood up, effectively quieting the whole room. Everyone now paid attention to him, whereas earlier they were getting bored with the Sorting.

            “As promised, I will keep this brief. First, let me welcome once again the first years! May your stay here prove valuable! And to our older students, welcome back, and may your education here continue to flourish. Now, we have a new addition to our staff; let me introduce you to Professor Quirrell, who has taken over the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts!” he finished, as Quirrell received a polite round of applause. “Mister Filch, our caretaker, also asked me to remind you of the list of banned objects from school grounds, currently pinned to the door of his office.” Dumbledore continued. “For our first years, and as reminder for some of our older pupils,” he said, looking over his glasses at a pair of redheaded twins at the Gryffindor table with a meaningful look, “the Forbidden Forrest is out of bounds, for everyone. In addition,” he continued to address all of the students,” the third floor corridor is also out of bounds, until further notice, for those who do not wish to die a painful death. Now, we feast!” he finished, raising his hands and food appeared on the tables in an instant.

            Harry could see the mountains of prepared meals in front of him, from delicious desserts to carefully crafted dinner plates. He started to put as much as he could on his plate, almost devouring the food. After a while, when he settled his stomach’s demands a bit, he turned to Draco, who was drinking from a goblet.

            “Say, what do you think Dumbledore meant by the last bit about a painful death?”

            “Who knows?” said Draco as he put down the goblet. “The man’s clearly insane.”

            “He’s still a brilliant wizard, Malfoy.” reproached Pucey in a bored tone.

            “True, but my point still stands. He’s off his rocker, what with the allowing muggle devices in the school.”

            “I saw you tinkering earlier with a phone, Draco.” remarked Zabini out of nowhere. “Don’t be hypocritical. How did you come by one, anyhow?”

            “Well, I can’t deny they’re useful.” drawled out Draco. “Stupid sometimes, but dead useful. I wanted to see what all the fuss is about and convinced mother to talk to father about allowing me one.”

            “Then why...” started Harry.

            “Because he had to fight almost the entirety of the wizarding world to do it.” interrupted Draco. “I’m not unhappy with the results, but going against all of that must be a sign of mental instability.”

            Harry thought it was a rather lame excuse with sneering at Dumbledore, but made no further comment on it. He somehow got the impression that Draco somehow _had_ to be negative about Dumbledore, but he felt like he was missing something.

            After the meal, Pucey lead the first years to the dormitory, after everyone in Slytherin already went ahead. They were led down long corridors that Harry struggled to remember all the twist and turns. They were somewhere in the dungeons, when Pucey stopped before a stone wall.

            “This is the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Please note of the serpent carving on the wall.” he said in a monotone voice. Indeed, if Harry looked closely, there was a snake swirling on the wall, with its head pointed forward.

            “To get inside, you must speak the password, which changes every fortnight. You’ll see the new password on the notice board.” he continued, turning to the wall. “Infamous.” he intoned, making the wall move backwards a bit and then split from the middle. There was another small tunnel that they went through, five feet long, before reaching a room with a tall celling, draped in green and silver, with window panes from top to bottom standing on either side of the grand fireplace in front of them. The windows looked weird at first, casting the room in a dark green light, only accentuated by the green orbs floating about here and there. Then, Harry realised that what he was looking at beyond the glass was _water_. They were underwater, probably in the lake they had to cross earlier. The light from the room reached little into the darkness of the lake, but Harry could observe the currents if he watched carefully.

            “This is the famed Slytherin common room. This will be your home for the next seven years, so try not to break anything. The boy’s dormitories are to the right down that hall,” Pucey pointed to somewhere to his left, facing the first years, “girls to the left. Your belongings have already been brought up. I suggest you go to sleep now. Tomorrow, present yourselves in the Great Hall for breakfast, starting at 8 AM and finishing at 9. You will receive your guides and timetables then. Good night and good luck.” Pucey finished and left the first years to scurry about. Harry went ahead with Draco ahead and climbed the stairs to the boy’s dormitories, going through the door that read “Year 1”. The room was exactly like Harry thought it would be: all exquisite furniture, expensive looking and regal, just like the common room. Harry was assigned the third bed from the left in the circular room, being between Draco and Gregory. His trunk and bag were already there, as Pucey said. The boys bid themselves good night and went to bed, changing into their night wear. Harry shot a quick text to his aunt and uncle, saying that he was fine and that he would talk to them in the morning. He saw Blaise and Nott do the same thing, while Draco seemed to ignore what was happening. Harry had a sinking feeling that Draco couldn’t use his phone to reach his family, but dismissed it quickly, thinking it was a little far fetched.

            As Harry went to sleep, he dreamed of a purple turban and a cold laugh that went his bones go numb, followed by a scream and a green light, but by morning he did not remember it, only left with a slight pain in his scar.

            As Harry and Draco made their way first to breakfast the next morning, both boys were startled to discover the entire room had changed: the four tables disappeared, instead there were smaller round one littered all over, with several chairs around them. There were a few people already inside, even with the early hour.

            “Harry, over here!” someone shouted. Harry turned to the corner of the room, near the door, to see Hannah wave enthusiastically at him. Hermione and Neville were already there, Neville eating a sandwich and Hermione sipping from a goblet while reading from her phone.

            “I’ll leave you to it.” said a put off Draco, making a move to walk away from Harry and get a table for himself, but the other boy would not have it.

            “Don’t be silly.” sighed Harry, dragging Draco by the arm, much to his horror, to the table.

            “What are you doing? _Unhand me_ , you m-“hissed Draco angrily.

            “Morning!” greeted an overly cheerful Hannah as they reached them. “Come, sit down!” she smiled.

            “There aren’t enough –“started Draco, removing his hands from Harry’s _deathly iron grip_ , only to be interrupted yet again, as the table suddenly got bigger and two more chairs appeared. Harry and a reluctant Draco sat down.

            “Abbott, Longbottom.” he greeted the pair more politely than he seemed.

            “Malfoy.” the both of them nodded.

            “Draco, this is Hermione Granger.” introduced Harry the bushy haired girl to his right.

            “Pleased to meet you.” she said, offering her hand. Draco shook it with only a second of hesitation. “Draco Malfoy.” he replied, with more confidence this time.

            It was clear that Draco was out of his element. Harry already knew that Draco had some issues with muggleborns, but Hermione was her friend and he wanted them to get along, so he accepted that Draco would just have to deal with it.

            “Harry, did you know you were trending last night?” Hermione turned her attention to the boy. “Well, still are, actually.”

            “Trending?” he scrunched up his nose. “Like on social networks?”

            “Yes, _everywhere_!” she exclaimed. “But mostly on Hooting.”

            “Is that like...”Harry tried not to laugh, “ _Twitter_?”

            “Exactly like it. Here, take a look!” she said, giving him her phone.

            While Harry didn’t have that much experience with social media sites, he knew some about it, not living in a cave away from the internet and all. Hooting, Harry discovered, was wizarding Twitter, almost an exact replica of the real thing.

            “Hash tag _Sorting Foul_?” he read out loud, with a curious enough Draco looking over his shoulder. “’Harry Potter goes to Slytherin, that’s it, the damn Hat lost its threads.’? ‘Potter in Slytherin is a sign of the Apocalypse’? ‘Harry Potter goes to Slytherin, I go to the St. Mungo’s for insanity’? What _the hell_ is this rubbish?” Harry finished reading.

            “They’re bummed out you didn’t go to Gryffindor, or any other House.” said Hannah, eating some omelettes. “Sore losers that lot. Some of them are not even in Hogwarts, why would they care?”

            “Because Slytherin has a tendency to spit out dark wizards more often than not.” replied Draco in a bored tone. “Pass me the jam, will you, Longbottom?” he asked, nonplussed.

            “Meaning?” asked a nervous Hermione as Neville gave Draco the small bowl, but Harry knew she had the answer.

             “Slytherin has the majority of dark wizards in Britain, so usually we’re written off as bad people the moment the Hat decides to place us there.” said an unconcerned Draco as he reached for the butter in front of him. Harry decided to nib on some sandwiches.

            “Granger, the toast, if you will?” he asked the girl, who hurriedly handled him a plate full of it.

            “So what? We all know there are enough bad people coming from other houses, a lot even from Gryffindor!” she huffed.

            “You call someone stupid their whole life, they will live their life thinking they’re stupid.” remarked Draco as he spread out butter on the toast. “The same with this, you call a Slytherin bad for being a Slytherin, eventually they will go bad if they already think they are.”

            “Nature versus nurture.” said Neville for the first time during that conversation. Hermione whipped her head in his direction so fast, Harry was surprised she didn’t rip a hole in the space-time continuum. “Sorry, it’s just something that I heard about recently.” he defended himself. Draco had his mouth slightly opened, with a sandwich halfway to its destination in his hand.

            “What’s that?” asked Hannah, confused.

            “Well... it states that...” started Hermione, but Harry’s phone vibrated in his pocket, so he excused himself from the table.

            “Hey, I was just about to call you.” Harry answered the phone to his relatives. There was a five minute discussion between them, as Harry explained his first night at Hogwarts to his aunt and uncle, but avoided to mention the stigma he now faced as a member of Slytherin. He then talked with Dudley, who was getting ready for his first semester at Smeltings, another boarding school. Vernon and Petunia seemed to have to deal with empty nest syndrome sooner than expected, Harry remarked.

            As he finished the call and went back to the table, Draco and Hermione were in deep argument about nature versus nurture. Harry was worried that it might escalate, but their only crime was being passionate about the subject, if a bit intense. One look to Neville confirmed things were alright.

            The argument finished in a tie, naturally, as Harry suspected it would. But give it to Draco and Hermione, two stubborn individuals, to solve it amongst themselves.

            “I should make a Hooting account, try and defend myself or something.” said Harry, tapping away at his phone.” ‘At HarrisonJamesPotter’, how does that sound?” he asked around the table.

            “Go for it.” encouraged Draco, offering him a sandwich. Harry noted he was the only one receiving such treatment.

            “Thanks.” he smiled, taking the toast from the plate. “Damn, I need an email. I didn’t make one.”

            “You have one.” pointed out Hermione as she wiped her mouth with a cloth. “The minute you are Sorted you get one from the school. It should be your first and middle name initials and your last name, so... hjpotter@hogwarts.uk?” she added after a moment of thought.

            “But shouldn’t it have a password that I would set?” asked Harry.

            “You didn’t get your timetable? It’s your student ID.”

            “Well, I didn’t –“Harry tried, but was interrupted by his phone, buzzing in his hands. He received a text, a document that had his schedule, a guide to getting around Hogwarts and of course, like Hermione mentioned, his student ID. Draco’s phone buzzed in time with his.

            “Nice.” Harry laughed as he made his account on Hooting, finally. He put a photo aunt Petunia took of him as a profile picture and then posted: ‘Hi, my name’s Harry Potter. I’m sure you all have your thoughts about the Sorting, but I’m here to learn, not rule the world. You can all breathe now.’ “There, that should do it.”

            “You underestimate social media.” said Hermione with a note of warning.

            “We should get going, Potter. We have double Potions first period.” said Draco as he looked at the clock, a quarter to nine.

            “So do we!” blurted Hannah. “We must be in the same group, how fun is that!”

            Draco made a face that conveyed exactly how much fun it was to him, but said nothing as everyone grabbed their bags and made their way for the dungeons.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wohooo! HOGWARTS! Finally! I was so anxious to write this chapter, with all the technology available at the castle. I had to make sure I didn't change much of the source material, namely the castle itself. Adding light bulbs and whatnot means that there is a source of electricity somewhere on the premises. And how about that, I made Harry go in Slytherin. Now, I know that some may wait for Ron to appear, and he will, albeit in a smaller manner for some time, not meeting Harry on the train or being in the same House as he is. Obviously, Ginny will be more vital to the story, but she will not appear for some time.  
> And Hooting, oh my god, I thought of that one some time at 2 AM when I originally wrote the chapter, I thought it was funny. I am going to think about the Facebook equivalent or something, but I am open to suggestions. Remember, you can always comment and say how trashy this fic is, I LIVE FOR IT!  
> That being said, next week we have some rather interesting talks and Harry's first day at school.


	5. The Headmaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's first day at Hogwarts takes a rather interesting turn of events.

 

            Neville had to get his timetable from Professor McGonagall, seeing as he couldn’t receive it electronically. The stern Professor handed the boy one as the group of five were on their way to Potions. McGonagall smiled at Harry, wishing him good luck on his first day at Hogwarts.

            “While I am slightly disappointed that I didn’t get you in Gryffindor like I hoped, I still want to wish you the best on your first day. My door is always open, Potter.” she finished.

            “Thank you, Professor. I’ll keep it in mind.” Harry smiled. McGonagall nodded curtly and promptly left.

            “Say, Neville,” started Hannah on their way to the dungeons, “how did you know you had Potions with us when you didn’t have your schedule yet?”

            “Hermione told me.” answered Neville, clutching a heavy bag with books. Harry felt for the boy, to carry all of those with him to every class must’ve been exhausting. Harry only had his laptop and tablet in his bag. “You know, you also get a list of students in your group when you get your timetable. We were on the same list, so...” he trailed off.

            Indeed, Harry remarked as he got out his phone to check, there was another page with the list of names of students divided into two groups. He was in the same group as all his other friends, including Blaise, Theodore and Gregory from his House. There were others that Harry didn’t know, but Harry was surprised Hannah was in their group, considering there were names from the letter ‘G’ upwards.

            “Hannah, why are you in the second group?” asked Harry as they turned a corner to the dungeons.

            “I requested a transfer. See, not many know they can do that.” she said in a confident voice.

            “Yeah, but we’re still twenty.” pointed Harry out.

            “Well, I sort of traded places with Parkinson. I wanted to go with you three to class, I didn’t want to leave you after just meeting you. That, and the free Friday, but it was just an added bonus, honestly.” she responded airily.

            “Still, how?!” demanded Harry, but Hannah just laughed.

            They reached the Potions classroom just before the bell rang. A few other students were waiting there already, Blaise and Theodore being two of them. Draco immediately struck a conversation with them as a few more of their classmates arrived. Harry, Hannah, Neville and Hermione were discussing how the class would probably go, when they were interrupted by the door opening. Professor Snape stood in the doorway, his dark, cold eyes quickly scanning the students, lingering a second more on Harry.

            “Enter.” he bid them in a low, gravely tone.

            The students followed him immediately, as the group of five chose a table just for themselves, with Gregory. Harry caught the look a redhead gave them, sad for a bit, before sitting down with some other Ravenclaws. Along the long tables in the room were cauldrons, bubbling happily on a fire. The room was darkly lit and slightly smoky, giving it an aura of mystery and danger. But the way Snape moved towards his desk, with his robes billowing behind him, and in the atmosphere of the classroom, made him look like an over grown bat, which Harry found amusing.

            “My name is Professor Snape.” the man intoned from the front desk, his voice carrying to the back seamlessly. “I am here to teach you the subtle art of potion making, a discipline that requires concentration and critical thinking, which is why not many of you will succeed here.” he continued.

            Harry thought that was a bit harsh, considering that was their first ever lesson, but only brought out his laptop and tablet, as Hermione and a few others did the same.

            “But if you’re not as big of a dunderheads like I usually teach, then you _might_ have a chance.” continued Snape as he went on to the roll call.

            “Mister Potter.” he said after finishing, making Harry slightly jump. Snape closed a document on his tablet and slowly made his way to their table. “Our new _celebrity_. Tell me, Potter, where would I get a bezoar?” he asked suddenly.

            “In the stomach of a goat, sir.” Harry answered, not fully understanding what it had to do with anything, but made note to put his tablet face down on his laptop and both of his hands on top of the table. Snape made note of the movement, the boy clearly wanting to show that he knew the answer without looking at his textbook.

            “Very well. What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

            “The... Draught of Living Death.” answered Harry, a bit unsure, but was careful enough to not phrase his answer like a question. He knew from experience that teachers didn’t like that. Snape narrowed his eyes slightly.

            “What is the difference between monkshood and aconite?” Snape continued his questioning.

            “None, they’re the same plant. Also called wolfsbane.” Harry responded, slightly angry that he was the only one getting these questions. Hermione thought so too. From the corner of his eye, Harry could see the girl fuss in her chair.

            “Well, isn’t this surprising.” Snape drawled out. “Some of you actually _bothered_ to read before your class. Well, _why aren’t you all writing this down_?” he asked the entire class, who scurried to take down notes.

            “Ten points to Slytherin, Mister Potter.” Snape drawled out, as he went to the blackboard, tapped something on his tablet, and an image appeared. Harry now knew it wasn’t a normal chalk blackboard, it was actually a pretty big screen.

            “Today we will be making the Cure for Boils. You have your instructions and your ingredients. If you have any questions, I will clarify for you.” said Snape in a tone that showed just how much he was willing to do that. “You may begin.”

            Harry and Gregory paired up to do their potion, while Hermione paired up with Draco and Hannah with Neville. Gregory was a bit clumsy and didn’t understand most of what he was doing, but he was decent enough that Harry didn’t have to do all of their work by himself. In the end, their potion was slightly off, but a lot better than Neville’s and Hannah’s. Draco and Hermione, through sheer force of will, perhaps, managed to stop being so tense around one another and actually made their potion perfect.

            “Let’s see what deadly concoctions you managed to make.” intoned Snape after two hours. “Potter and Goyle.” he said immediately. “Tut, tut, tut, for all your prowess before, Mr Potter, I would’ve expected better. Your potion’s colour is just a bit off from the required final stage, but I daresay it would not cure all the boils fully.” Snape admonished with a sardonic smile.

            “It’s my fault, Professor.” spoke Gregory for the first time, startling Harry, as the other boy only spoke in short responses or grunts. “I didn’t chop some ingredients correctly.” he continued, looking down at the table.

            “No, it’s not entirely you, we both worked on this potion, it’s my fault as well.” Harry assured him. “I’m sorry, Professor, we will do better next time.” Harry promised, looking Snape straight in the eyes. He suddenly got the feeling like Snape was doing more than watching him intensely, like he was trying to read something in Harry’s look.

            “Accepting responsibility for your actions?” Snape responded sarcastically. “You continue to surprise me, Potter.”

            Harry blinked, not seeing that response coming.

            “Malfoy and Granger, your potion is, without a word, _perfect_. Five points to Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Abbott and Longbottom, your potion is so _abysmal_ , in fact, it might _give_ me boils if I drank it.” Snape continued in his tirade. “Two points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Now, I want to do something different.” Snape declared. “From this moment on, I will change your self assigned partners, based on your performance. Malfoy and Granger, you two will not work together in this class, for it is clear that you are both, as much as it pains me to say, _exceptional_ in this subject. Granger, you will work from now on with Abbott. Malfoy...” he paused here, appearing to think. “You will work with Goyle. Which leaves Mr Potter and Mr Longbottom here to become the next power couple in potions.” he gave out a cold laugh. “You may switch seats.” he ordered them.

            Harry switched places with Hannah, who switched with Draco, who went in Harry’s old seat. Harry was now between Neville and Hermione and was watching as Snape went to the other students and did the same thing he did with them. Harry noted others had more trouble than they did.

            “Weasley, explain what _exactly_ is this supposed to be?” Snape hissed. “The only good thing I can say about this _thing_ is that you didn’t add porcupine quills, otherwise, judging by the state of things, your potion would have melted your cauldron. What, are simple instructions too hard to follow? Five points from Gryffindor.” he mocked the readhead, who was now beyond embarrassed. He got assigned with someone from Ravenclaw as partner.

            “Your assigned partners are stuck with you for an indefinite amount of time, unless circumstances intervene. Try not to let them. For homework, I want a one hundred fifty words essay about the usage of the Cure for Boils potion. Potter,” Snape snapped his head in Harry’s direction, “a word. The rest of you, dismissed.” commanded Snape, even though there were a few more minutes before the bell rang.

            Harry got his things, assuring a nervous Neville that he will be fine. His friends promised they would wait for him outside. As the other students exited the classroom, Snape vanished the solutions in the cauldrons and sat at his desk.

            “Sit, Mr Potter.” Snape motioned for Harry, making a chair come from the desks and place itself behind Harry. The boy did as requested of him, with a lump in his throat.

            “Did I do anything wrong, sir?” Harry asked in his best innocent voice.

            “I will not lie to you, Potter.” Snape sighed. “I was expecting you to be in Gryffindor, brash and uneducated, but from the moment the Hat Sorted you in my House I was... perplexed. Why would a _Potter_ of all things, end up in Slytherin?” he asked rhetorically. “But I cannot change the Hat’s decision, so I must contend to have you my direct responsibility. Which is part of the reason I asked you to remain behind, Potter. I do not approve of rule breaking, especially coming from _you,_ so during your stay here, make sure you are not caught doing something...illicit.” Snape finished, but Harry caught on to something.

            “Excuse me sir, and I mean no disrespect by saying it, but as a teacher, shouldn’t you advise me not to _break_ rules, instead of getting _caught_ doing so?” he asked.

            Snape’s corner of the mouth turned slightly upwards, giving Harry pause. Seeing the sour-faced Professor actually giving him a half smile was dumbfounding.

            “There may be hope for you yet, Potter. But I know fully well what I said. Your father, I am sorry to say, was not the stellar student you might’ve heard he was. He, along with his band of friends, did all sorts of rule breaking during their stay here. Of course, being _Gryffindors,_ they were not punished as they should be. I will not tolerate the same behaviour from you. You are a Slytherin, so _act like one_. So far, you have not disappointed, but it is only the first day.” Snape warned Harry, who was a bit confused.

            “I’m sorry, sir, but the only things I heard about my parents during their education was that they were doing well, my mother in particular. Aside from that, I only know little.” Harry confessed.

            “Suffice it to say your father was a brat during school.” Snape retorted.

            “He was a child.” countered Harry. “Most children are brats, myself included sometimes.”

            “That is... true.” added Snape with a moment hesitation. “Alas, I said my piece. Now, if you don’t have any questions regarding school activity, you may go.”

            “Actually, I did, Professor.” Harry suddenly remembered.

            “Oh? Well, go on.”

            “First years either take Muggle Studies if they were raised in a wizarding society or Wizarding Studies if they come from muggle families, correct?”

            “Yes?” Snape raised an eyebrow, not seeing where this was going.

            “Well, “Harry said as he took out his phone and showed Snape his timetable, “I was placed in Muggle Studies, but that’s a mistake, since I grew up with my muggle aunt and uncle.”

            Snape raised his head from Harry’s phone to look at the boy, as if he was having an epiphany.

            “So Petunia was the one that took care of you.” Snape blurted out before he could stop himself.

            “How do you know my aunt, sir?” Harry asked, making a face.

            “It’s... complicated.” Snape asked, his frightening demeanour suddenly gone.

            “Wait... _Severus_ Snape?” Harry asked himself more than his teacher, and then gave a small ‘oooh’ in revelation. “Oh, I know about you, sir!” Harry exclaimed, making Snape cringe.

            “Yes, I would imagine so.” he drawled out, getting back his posture. “Very well, I will transfer you into a Wizarding Studies class. You may go.” Snape continued as he tapped his tablet a few times and gave Harry his phone back. The Muggle Studies class was replaced by its counterpart, as promised. Harry got up and was nearly at the door when he thought to ask.

            “What was she like?” Harry dared.

            There was a flash of something across the Professor’s face, something like regret and mourning all at once.

            “Brilliant.” he said, not meeting Harry’s eyes. “Now go, Potter. Don’t make me say it again.”

            Harry nodded and went in the hall to see his friends waiting for him. They all asked if he was okay, or if he somehow got into trouble with Snape, which Harry denied. When asked what they discussed, Harry was tempted to say ‘My mother, among other things’, but refrained, instead telling them about his class transfer. Hermione was thrilled she was not going to be alone in the class, starting a discussion with Harry about where she got to in the textbook. She was less thrilled when Harry told her he finished the book months ago.

            Their next class was History of Magic, taught by _a ghost_ , Harry discovered. Harry saw a few while walking on the corridors, but he was never as close to one, before. The Bloody Baron, the ghost of Slytherin, gave him the creeps.

            The class was considerably boring. Binns, the teacher, had a way of droning his lectures in a way that made Harry sleepy. Neville had a hard time staying awake, while Hannah was close to snoring. Draco and Hermione were stubbornly resisting the lull of sleep. Harry gave up altogether, having already read all of the course material. He took out his laptop, put some pop music in his earphones, and began to write out his homework for Potions, which he finished in twenty minutes, complete with sourcing. He would have finished earlier, but he was still getting used to his laptop’s keyboard.

            They had a free period before lunch, so the five friends went to the library for the next hour and a half to write their essays for Snape, except for Harry, who tagged along just to be with his friends. The library, once just housing ancient books, was now brought up to modern standards, with computers aligned alongside the right and left portions of the rooms and a few printers for public use. There was another section of the wall with what Harry figured was a server, which occupied half of the wall separating public access from the restricted section. Harry knew that the server had all of the books in the library stored in a gigantic drive, one that anyone within Hogwarts could access. It eliminated the actual need of having to check out a book from the library, but since not all of the students had WizTech devices, like Neville, the physical books were still needed for the time being. Still, the library remained a hangout point for people who wanted to learn in peace and quiet, by themselves or with people from other Houses.

             Hermione was shocked that Harry didn’t pay attention to History of Magic, but when Harry produced all of the notes for all the lessons in History for their year, she nearly fell out of her chair. Harry’s notes were almost word for word what Binns droned about. Harry disclosed that McGonagall once told him about the boredom that is History class and advised Harry to take notes beforehand. The boy might’ve gone a bit overboard, making his notes for all of the sixty or so lessons they had that year.

            “When did you have the _time_?!“ shrieked Hannah, almost as if she was offended by the notion of what Harry did. “If you tell me that you did the same for the other classes...!”

            “No, Hannah, calm down.” Harry whispered, trying to calm the girl to avoid the ire of the library lady, one Madam Pince. “I only had the time to do History completely. I did some other courses, but not like that. History I did because it’s purely factual and I don’t need Binns to explain me why Gunther the Gullible died at the hands of his maid, I can find out by myself.”

            “Look at you, all _Slytherin_ like and all.” laughed Draco. “Care to share your notes with the rest of the class?” he snickered, but there was a hopeful underlying tone to his voice.

            “No!” hissed Hermione. “That would be wrong! Harry worked hard to make those notes, he shouldn’t have to share them with us, and the rest of us should work as hard as he did!”

            “But wouldn’t it be _amazing_ if you could work on other things while you are supposed to take notes?” Draco tried to tempt Hermione in a slightly mocking tone.

            Harry could see a storm brewing in Hermione’s head, between the part that thirsted for easy access knowledge and the other that wanted to keep inside the rules.

            “It would be unethical.” murmured Hermione, but she was fighting a losing battle with herself.   

            “It’s not breaking any rules. Is it?” Hannah looked at Harry, who shook his head smiling.

            “If Harry wants to share his notes with you guys, then you should accept them.” said Neville, sounding eerily determined.

            “Just with you four.” added Harry. “That means you too, Neville.”

            “But I don’t have a laptop or even a phone.” Neville tried to scoff, but Harry was already thinking on how to change that. Before he could accomplish his plan, he had to do something else. He typed something on his laptop for a few seconds then promptly stood up.

            “Harry, what are you doing?” requested a very confused Hannah, echoing everyone’s thoughts.

            Harry went to a nearby printer and waited for a few seconds, while the machine quickly spit out his Potions homework. He returned, sitting down in his spot.

            “You did know you could’ve just used your laptop to print them, right Harry?” Hermione said, slightly unimpressed.

            “Come on, “laughed Harry, “there’s no actual way WizTech devices are so advanced that they...”

            Hermione sighed, pressed a button on Harry’s keyboard that he had no idea was even there, and suddenly Harry’s essay for Snape began appearing from the right of the keyboard. Hermione made a face that seemed to say ‘Duh’ at Harry.

            “In my defence, I thought it was a DVD port.”

            “Nobody in the wizarding world uses those, Harry. Everything is stored on cloud servers. Now sign it with something, so that Snape will know it’s yours and not just something you copied and pasted.” Hermione explained, going into IT technician mode. “Which reminds me.” she said, typing away with the speed of light on Harry’s computer.

            “Is she looking up naughty pictures?” Harry half joked in Draco’s ears.

            “Of what, _books_?” Draco laughed.

            “No nudity, I’m afraid.” drawled Hermione, tossing a piece of parchment she used for doodling earlier at Harry’s head. “Alright,” she said, finally looking up from the screen at the people around her, “I found this program that allows you to create sort of a virtual chat room, where you can talk to your friends, post files and pictures, stuff like that. If we were to make one for ourselves, we could share information between us quicker, and we would be able to organise it much better.”

            “So...” Harry thought, “if I put my notes there, you could all read it at any time? Like the library server?”

            “Exactly!” the girl exclaimed, still mindful of not being loud. “Very organised, very easy to use, and we...”

            “Is this Dropbox with a chat option?” Harry suddenly asked. Hermione blinked several times, not expecting that.

            “Well, if you want to get technical, yes.” she answered, her feathers ruffled. “But it’s called VirtualTrunk, or just VTrunk for short. Harry, you made the notes first, you should be the admin.” she said, pushing the boy’s laptop to him, making him register. It took a minute to do so, after which Hermione took the laptop again. Ten minutes later, she handed it back, taking her own computer out of the bag and made everyone follow her lead. Harry gave a reluctant Neville his own computer. It took longer for the chubby boy, but eventually everyone had an account.

            “Wow, there are loads of people on here.” remarked Neville. “What’s with these names? Cannon fodders, rune monks...?”

            “Those are names of communities on the VirtualTrunk, doing what I said we could do here. You know, you join one of their groups to talk about any number of topics, usually the ones that revolve around their group name.”

            “What’s ours?” asked Hannah.

            “Well, I was thinking...” started Hermione but was interrupted yet again, this time by Draco.

            “Scarheads.” he truly laughed, for the first time. “You know, with Potter’s scar and all, him being the add-in...”

            “Admin. Comes from administrator.” corrected Hermione automatically.

            “Whatever.” Draco dismissed her, making Hermione harrumph in indignation.

            In the end, Harry, with the help of Hermione, made the necessary steps to organise their class notes. Neville was a bit distraught that he couldn’t have access to them all the time, so Harry loaned the boy his tablet, putting his plan in motion.

            “Harry, I can’t borrow it, you use it to read your books from it.” Neville tried to decline.

            “Hermione reads hers from her phone when she can’t from the computer. I can do the same. Besides, I think I exaggerated when I got this particular model.” Harry continued.

            “Why?” asked Neville, still holding the tablet rather afraid.

            Harry chuckled and pressed on a button on the side of the tablet, which made it reduce in its size immediately, turning it into...

            “A phone!” exclaimed Hermione. “It’s a _Titan_ model, I knew I’ve seen it somewhere!” she exclaimed. “ _Titan_ models can change their size to better accommodate their user’s needs!”

            “Well, you can use any tablet now as a phone, although it wouldn’t be terribly practical. So, you got two in one, and now you can even chose which to use.” said Harry to Neville.

            The boy gaped and then stuttered to express his gratitude. He even hugged Harry, who was pleasantly surprised by it.

            “I’ll take really good care of it, I promise! And I’ll give it back to you whenever you need it for reading!” Neville promised.

            Hermione and Hannah went to sit by Neville and help him use the device.

            “So here is where you can change its outer colour.” explained Hermione, pointing at something on the screen.

            “Wicked!” exclaimed an overwhelmed Neville.

            Harry sat next to Draco, who was giving him a weird look. Harry raised an eyebrow.

            “What?” he asked, but the blond haired boy just took Harry’s phone and pressed a button from the side, making it into an exact replica of the tablet Neville held.

            “If you knew that _Titan_ models changed their size, then why buy two of them?” asked Draco, handing the boy’s device back.

            “What, are you going to lecture me on spending on myself?” retorted Harry.

            “Merlin, no!” Draco sounded almost offended. “I’m just asking why.”

            But Harry just shrugged his shoulders. In truth, he only discovered the changing size option on the devices shortly before going to Hogwarts. He thought about sending one of them back, as he had no use for two of the same device at once, but when he made friend out of Neville he decided to give the boy his extra device. Better to give it to someone who needed it rather than just send it back to the store.

            Neville changed the metallic cover of the tablet from silver to deep red, making Draco roll his eyes, muttering ‘Gryffindors.’

            After lunch, they had Transfiguration, followed by Charms. Harry discovered that Draco was a wandlesser, like he was (“Of course I am a wandlesser, Potter, only the best are.”), as was Hannah. He was a bit perplexed as to how did it happen that his friends at the school all happened to be like him in this regard, seeing as there were very few among the other students in his year. McGonagall, like Snape, took immediate control of her class, giving them a theoretical overview of the subject. Then they were tasked to change a matchstick into a needle for the duration of their lesson. McGonagall noted for the wandlessers in their class that they had to make the proper spell gestures with their hands, rather than with a wand.

            Harry and Draco succeeded on their second attempt, while Hermione made it in one go. Draco was slightly jealous of that fact. Neville managed finally after some encouraging from Harry, but Hannah’s needle was still brown by the time the lesson was finished. Before the bell rang, however, McGonagall assigned them homework due by their next class and showed her first years her transformation into her cat form, making the students gasp and awe.

            “I wish I could do that.” sighed Hannah while they were on their way to Charms. “But I’m rubbish at Transfiguration, there’s no way I could be an Animagus.” she said defeated.

            “Chin up, Hannah.” tried Harry. “It was only the first class. By your standards, I would be rubbish at Potions for not making a _perfect_ potion on the first try. We’re here to learn, and that’s what we are doing.”

            “Easy for you to say, you got it right almost immediately.” pointed out Neville.

            “So did Draco. And I can’t speak for him, but I am a maniac when it comes to schoolwork.”

            “If you’re a maniac, then what am I?” asked Hermione tightly.

            “Hermione.” said Neville, Hannah and Harry at the same time, making the bushy haired girl laugh, despite her previous attitude. Harry could swear he saw Draco crack a smile before he placed his mildly bored facade on his face.

            By the time they reached the Charms classroom, Hannah was looking less dejected than before, with Harry’s reassurances in mind. The Charms Professor was Filius Flitwick, the very short one Harry saw next to Hagrid at the Sorting. Flitwick almost fell of his stack of books when he read the roll call and got to Harry’s name, making Draco snicker.

            They didn’t do any spells, merely covered more theory. But Harry was excited to learn that they would learn the Flying Charm soon, something he was very much looking forward to. Hermione nearly fell from her seat, she was trying to lean closer to Flitwick, almost as if physical proximity would make her learn more. Harry was just thankful Flitwick didn’t assign homework, other than reading for the next class.

            They had Astronomy next, another almost purely theoretical subject. Harry revealed he made some notes for this class as well, seeing as there was no practical spell work involved. The Astronomy Tower was something of an observatory, with the huge telescope on the top. The student’s meagre portable telescopes were nothing compared to it. Aurora Sinistra was their teacher for the class, a fair and moderate witch that was always eager to help her students. Harry liked her instantly.

            At dinner, Draco sat with some of his Slytherin friends instead of with Harry and the others. The boy argued that he didn’t have to be joined at the hip with Harry, _thank you very much_ , and could have other friends. Harry suspected Draco _didn’t_ actually had friends, just acquaintances and allies, but said nothing. They did promise to see each other in the library after the meal to finish McGonagall’s homework for the next day.

            “Harry,” said Hermione as they sat at their own table in the Great Hall, “I know you want to be friends with Draco, but you should be careful around him.”

            “I know he has some reservations about muggleborns, ‘Mione, but he was nice enough to you today, wasn’t he?” Harry defended the blond boy.

            “I don’t know if _nice_ was exactly it, but he was polite, yes. He managed not to throw a fit during Potions, so I’m counting that as a win. But that’s not what I meant. Do you know who his father is?”

            Harry laughed, remembering when Draco muttered ‘My father will hear about this.’ when he was scolded for not paying attention during Transfiguration.

            “Lucius Malfoy, yes.” Harry responded, much to the other’s surprise.

            “How do you know him? Did Malfoy tell you?” asked Neville.

            “No, I searched him online. What, you think I don’t know more than half of my dorm mates’ parents were supporters of Voldemort?” Harry continued, ignoring the way Neville and Hannah shivered at the name.

            “Please don’t say his name.” muttered Hannah, terrified for the first time Harry saw her.

            “But I – “

            “Never mind that.” shrilled Hermione anxiously. “Harry, if you know who Lucius is, then you know to be cautious with Draco.”

            “Oh, I do.” responded Harry airily, taking a bite out of his mashed potatoes.

            “Wait... _what?_ ” asked the three of them at the same time.

            “Look,” sighed Harry and looked them evenly, “I won’t lie to you, I know Draco is friendly more for his own gain than anything and possibly for Lucius, so I know that I have to be careful with him. I’m willing to give him a chance and prove he is not his father, but I am still keeping an eye on him. The same goes for the other Slytherins whose parents have connections to Voldemort.”

            Hannah, Neville and Hermione stared at him, bewildered, like Harry was either insane or simply genius.

            “So what happens if he doesn’t earn your trust fully?” asked Hannah. “If he proves to be against you or something.”

            “You know the saying: ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’” responded Harry, smiling.

            “Wow, you truly _are_ a Slytherin.” blurted Neville.

            “Thank you, Nev. Oh, which reminds me.” said Harry, taking out his phone to check Hooting.

            He downloaded the app and logged in, rather than going in though the browser. He discovered his account had a white verified mark in a circle, on a golden background.

            “Eh... what’s this?” Harry asked, showing Hermione the screen.

            “Oh, you’re verified! It means Hooting recognises you as an official personality!” she exclaimed. “Oh, you got some followers.”

            “Thirty hundred followers?!” shouted Hannah. “In one day?”

            “That’s not much, compared to the number of users worldwide.” pointed out Hermione. “But she’s right, it’s still a good number.” she continued, turning to Harry.

            The boy was floored. He could not imagine _this_ many people wanting to see what he would say. And if the growing number was any indication, there were still more to follow.

            “Crap,” he muttered, earning an admonishing look from Hermione, “I have to put some privacy options. Hermione, a little help here?” he asked

            After the appropriate setting were implemented, Harry continued to browse the social media site, while Hannah and Hermione were still helping Neville get used to his tablet/phone. There were a number of new... hoots, Hermione said there were called, about his Sorting. Unbelievable that people were _still_ on about that. He was gracious to discover more and more people were warming up to the idea of him being in Slytherin. He even found some mentions of him made by some of his professors:

            @ProfMcGonagall: _Mr Potter is a well behaved and brilliant student. His Sorting doesn’t change that fact and it doesn’t matter in which House he is, as long as he does his best in class._

            @FilliTheDuelly: _Harry Potter’s Sorting only goes to show that SOME people have a hard time accepting others and are filled with prejudice and you should all be ashamed of attacking a child based on the decision of a hat._

@AlbusDumbledore: _Mr Potter is an eleven year old child, to berate him on a decision that he had nothing to do about is unforgivable._

@SinisterSinistra: _Lol, so many sore losers. Get over yourselves._ _#ISupportPotterInSlytherin_

Harry wrote out a thanks of sorts to every one of his supporters. Clearly, damage control was the right decision. He also specified that anything people ever wrote about him in books were lies, as no one ever approached him about an interview. He added another hoot, clarifying that he might do an interview in the future, when he decides to do so.

            Harry then received a text from an unknown number.

            Unknown: _Harry, I would like to see you in my office, tonight, after dinner. Third floor, behind the winged stone gargoyle._

_\- Headmaster Dumbledore_

_P.S.: I am partial to liquorice._

            Harry raised his head from his screen to look at Dumbledore at the head table, who smiled at him and slightly raised his phone in his hands.

            “Who was that from?” asked Hermione.

            “Dumbledore.” responded Harry, saving his number in his contacts. “Wants to meet me in his office after dinner.”

            “What for?” asked Neville.

            “Dunno. I’ll have to go if I want to find out. ‘Partial to liquorice’... maybe that’s the password to his office?” said Harry more to himself.

            “Maybe. But are you sure that it’s from him?” spoke Hermione.

            “Yeah, it’s him.” Harry assured her, while the man in question was now exiting the Great Hall.

            “But we’ll see each other in the library later, right?” asked a worried Hannah.

            “Well, curfew is at ten, and I don’t imagine it will take four hours to talk to him.” said Harry, grabbing his things and sending a text to Draco, explaining what he had to do. “Okay, I’ll catch up with you later.” he bid them goodbye.

            Harry walked through the corridors, trying not to get lost. His guide wasn’t that helpful, turning him once or twice where he wasn’t supposed to. He reached the gargoyle in time for dinner to have finished, but he still wished there was an _actual map_ of the school to help him.

            “Liquorice.” Harry said before the gargoyle, who ascended, making a spiral staircase. Harry climbed the steps and came before an oak door. He knocked three times, and came in after an ‘Enter.’ was heard beyond the door.

            Harry entered a circular room, with bookshelves from top to bottom, ancient looking and weathered. There was a brilliant bird in the corner, big and red, with long tail feathers with golden tips. The bird gave a small trill as Harry came in, a sound that made Harry feel like he was floating on clouds.

            “Seems like Fawkes has taken a liking to you.” said a voice.

            Harry turned from the bird to see Professor Dumbledore sitting at his desk, on top of which were a lot of trinkets that did weird things from time to time and a big computer screen, which Dumbledore was looking at. The Headmaster drew his attention to Harry and invited him to sit down. Harry did as he was told, noting the moving portraits behind Dumbledore. There were some names underneath them, but Harry only recognised Armando Dippet, as the former Headmaster before Dumbledore.

            “Lemon drop, Harry?” Dumbledore asked, pointing to a bowl of yellow sweets. Harry accepted one, out of politeness, but discovered they were actually quite good.

            “I am sorry to take you away from your friends, Harry, and I am aware that you have homework for tomorrow, but there must be some things we must discuss.” Dumbledore noted with a twinkle in his eyes.

            “It’s alright, Professor.” Harry quickly responded. “I was halfway done with it anyway. And my friends will be fine without me for some time.” he laughed.

            Dumbledore smiled. “I am most pleased that you seem to have made friends from all four Houses. I thought to promote inter House unity by getting rid of the traditional four tables for the Houses that we have all year long. Now, we only use them for the Sorting. But I am getting off topic.”

            Harry didn’t seem to think anything Dumbledore said was remotely off topic, but continued to listen.

            “I wanted to ask if there was any animosity between you and other students, concerning your placement in Slytherin. While I enforce that my teachers treat each House equally, students may not come to the same conclusion.”

            “No sir, nobody said anything to me so far.” answered Harry truthfully. “Aside from Hooting posts, nobody said anything to me personally.”

            “Well, people tend to be more brazen when hidden behind a screen.” said Dumbledore, thoughtfully. “Should anyone give you trouble in this regard, please tell me or Professor Snape. I do not tolerate bullying, and neither does he.”

            Harry nodded.

            “Concerning your friends, Harry, I must warn you about one, namely Draco Malfoy.”

            “I know about his father, Professor, and others within my House as well. But I am willing to give Draco the benefit of doubt. Until proven otherwise, he is my friend. But I am being careful.” explained Harry.

            Dumbledore actually _beamed_ at Harry. “That is a surprisingly mature stance, Harry. I am most delighted to hear that. Some caution is necessary, yes, but I am pleased you are willing to give mister Malfoy a chance. After all, it’s not how we are that defines us, but rather our choices. Draco may yet surprise you.

            On another topic, I wish to ask you about your relatives. You see, I was the one who placed you with them. While I had people watching over to see if you weren’t mistreated, I still have to ask you if the Dursleys have ever treated you wrong.” Dumbledore said in a grave voice.

            “No, sir. They have been very good to me and always took care of me.” Harry responded, not understanding why anyone would think aunt Petunia or uncle Vernon would do anything bad to him.

            “If there is any incident where you feel they punished you or overlooked you severely, I ask that you tell me.” Dumbledore continued.

            Harry was a little distraught at the implications Dumbledore was pulling, but he understood the necessity of asking about such things. After all, the Headmaster was only trying to find out through Harry if he made a mistake placing the boy with his relatives, something Harry wanted to know more about.

            “There was that one time I was grounded for a week to my room, only to come out for meals and bathroom breaks, but that was because I went to the library by myself, without telling anyone. Aunt Petunia was _livid_ ,” he remembered, biting down a laugh, “but other than that, no, no punishments or anything like that. They’ve been wonderful to me, I promise you, sir.” Harry said determinedly. The boy might’ve gotten his point across, seeing as Dumbledore’s stance changed immediately.

            “Well, then I am happy with my decision. I will trust you on this, Harry. Now, you obviously have a number of questions you would have me answer.” Dumbledore added knowingly.

            “I know that Voldemort attacked and killed my parents on Halloween, but I was discovered on my relative’s doorstep on November 2nd. What happened during that time?”

            Dumbledore stood up straight and started to use his teacher tone. No doubt decades of being a Professor brought it out from him when he needed to explain something.

            “I went to see what happened for myself, having the expertise and authority to do so. I found your father and mother both dead, but only with you alive. The house was a mess, as you can imagine. The only thing left of Voldemort was his robes and nothing else. But you were standing in the wreckage, crying. I placed you temporarily in the care of a neighbour of yours at the time, and dear friend of mine, Bathilda Bagshot, the author of your History textbook. While I was dealing with the aftershock, I sent Hagrid to retrieve you from her care and deliver you to your relatives, thus the discrepancy in the time period. While Hagrid would transport you in a much slower method than other wizards, I think we can agree that having a man like Hagrid protect you could not hurt. I placed you on your aunt’s doorstep the following morning, placing some protection of you, of course. Waking them up at that hour would’ve drawn attention to you. It was perhaps a hasty decision, in retrospect.” Dumbledore paused to allow Harry to ask something else, almost as if he knew the amount of things going through the boy’s head at the time.

            “I thought my parents were in hiding. How did you, let alone Voldemort, found my house?”

            Dumbledore sighed. “Harry, these are things I would not be comfortable telling an eleven year old, normally. But I will give you a choice: I will tell you what you need to know, but that knowledge comes with a lot of burdens that you will have to carry. Choosing to hear the truth about it all comes with that price, I am afraid. A test on your maturity.”

            Harry paused for a moment. He wanted to know so _badly_. But Dumbledore’s warnings rang clear in his mind. Was he capable enough of understanding what it all meant? What if the truth was too hard to hear? Could he bear whatever burden the Headmaster thought would be placed on him? But then he remembered not knowing _anything_ for almost all his life, and then there was only one answer.

            “I want to know, Professor. I accept whatever that means I have to deal with.”

            “Are you completely sure?” asked Dumbledore.

            “Yes. There is no doubt in my mind.” answered Harry, fully committed now.

            “Very well. To start, I have to go back to your parents’ time here, at Hogwarts.” Dumbledore started to tell his story. “Both of them were in Gryffindor, as you probably well know. Your father and mother didn’t get along at first, mainly because your father was well... _bullying,_ unfortunately, a friend of your mother’s.”

            “Was that friend Professor Snape, by any chance, sir?” Harry blurted before he could stop himself.

            Dumbledore looked positively _stunned_. It was a weird look on him, Harry decided. To see a character such as the Headmaster, an old, wise wizard taken by surprise was _odd_.

            “Yes, how did you know?” asked Dumbledore, with a surprised smile.

            “Took a guess, really.” confessed an equally stupefied Harry. “I knew they were friends before coming to Hogwarts and that they lived near each other in their childhood. I only made the connection _that_ Snape was Professor Snape this morning.”

            “That is... a surprising leap in deduction.” Dumbledore stammered. _Stammered_. Harry was losing his marbles. “But yes, Severus and Lily were friends before. Your father was cruel and hurtful to him, I am sorry to say, during their years in the school.”

            “He liked my mother and wanted to impress her.” Harry noted, not looking directly at Dumbledore.

            “Correct. Forgive an old man, Harry, but you are proving to be cleverer than for your own good.” the Headmaster jested. “Yes, your father was doing a poor job of trying to get your mother’s attention. He had three other close friends in Gryffindor, your father, named Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin. Sirius Black was your father’s closest friend and usually his accomplice in his rule breaking. Remus was the more moderate of the two, a Prefect from his fifth year onwards, usually being the clear head in the group and getting them out of trouble. Pettigrew was their friend more because they shared a dormitory, but he was their friend, nonetheless.

            There was an incident during their fifth year with Severus, one in which your father was involved, that lead to a falling out between Severus and your mother. I do not know the details, but that was the end of their friendship. Some time later, James Potter finally managed to mature enough to see the error of his ways and got a chance from your mother. But Severus and Lily never truly reconciled.”

            “He liked her, didn’t he? Professor Snape, I mean. He liked _liked_ my mother.” Harry said.

            “Yes, I believe he did.” Dumbledore chuckled.

            “Is this why Professor Snape doesn’t like my father?”

            “That, the mistreatment, and something that occurred during their sixth year. You see, and I want to keep this strictly between us, Harry, Remus Lupin is a werewolf, bitten at the age of five. There were several harsh laws regarding werewolves back then, Harry, so being one was a trying experience for the young man. But I accepted him into Hogwarts, regardless, and made preparations for his once a month transformations. I assume you are not familiar with the Whomping Willow?” Dumbledore continued after Harry shook his head. “Well, as the name suggests, it is not a very pleasant tree. It tends to hit anyone getting close enough to it, if one doesn’t know how to calm it. I planted it the year Remus Lupin would arrive at Hogwarts. There is a tunnel underneath it, one that I don’t recommend you use, which leads to a secluded location where Remus could transform in peace.”

            “The Willow was used as a protector of sorts, right? To not let anyone accidentally find the tunnel and reach Mr Lupin when he transformed.” Harry observed, at which Dumbledore nodded.

            “During one of the full moons, Sirius Black told Professor Snape, who by then had a deep desire to find out what was happening and get your father and his friends in trouble for supposedly breaking the rules, that if he wanted to find out the truth, all he had to do was go through the tunnel underneath the Willow. He even told him how to calm the tree. Your father stopped Severus before the latter would be undoubtedly attacked by a transformed Remus, but he find out the truth. You see, Harry, your father saved Professor Snape’s life that night.” Dumbledore recited

            “So he was... _is_ miffed that his tormentor saved him.” Harry finally understood.

            “Yes. Severus is by not any means grateful to your father, believing that he thought Sirius just took a joke too far and stopped him to save his own skin, as he put it. But the fact remains that Sirius Black endangered a student.”

            “Sorry, sir, but how does this all connect?”

            “I am getting there.” Dumbledore answered. “During that time, Voldemort was gaining power and followers, targeting everyone who opposed him. Yours truly led a group whose sole mission was to defeat the Dark Lord. Your mother, your father and his three friends, all joined my cause.”

            Dumbledore paused once again and sighed deeply. Harry got a sudden feel of dread.

            “This is the part where I am most fearful to tell you, Harry. Tell me, have you ever heard of Divination?” Dumbledore asked gravely.

            “It’s the art of seeing into the future. I think it’s taught to third years and upwards in Hogwarts.” Harry recalled.

            “Yes, it is. Nearly twelve years ago, I presented myself to an interview for an applicant that wished for the job in the school. She claimed she was descended from Cassandra Trelawney herself, a renowned Seer. I never had the aptitude in the subject myself, so I didn’t know what to expect. I met her at the Hog’s Head, an inn in Hogsmeade, a wizard village not far from here.”

            Harry nodded, but deep down he tried to understand the fascination of wizards with hogs, seeing as they named almost anything after them.

            “The applicant showed me some of her talents, which were mediocre at best. I was beginning to lose faith in the interview, when she made something I didn’t expect. She made a prophecy, an actual one, something that was rare indeed. Harry, would you mind going to that cupboard and bring me the basin residing in it?” Dumbledore suddenly asked. Harry did as he was told, going to the indicated cupboard.

            “Sir, is this a Pensive?” Harry asked, carrying the surprisingly light object to the desk.

            “Yes, Harry, indeed.” answered a smiling Dumbledore. “It can come in very useful, especially in time like these.” Dumbledore took out his wand and placed it on his temple. When he drew it, there was a silvery substance attached to it, which was neither liquid nor gas, but it was incredibly light. He placed the memory in the basin, then touched the water inside of it with the wand. A figure raised from the Pensive, a woman in her thirties with big, bespectacled eyes as large as tennis balls, draped in a shawl. She looked very much like an insect, Harry thought, in spite of himself. And then she spoke:

            “ _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...”_

Harry was beyond confused as the figure went back into the basin. He looked back at Dumbledore, who suddenly looked even older, if it was possible.

            “I then knew that I had to give her the job, if only to keep her safe. If Voldemort were to discover the prophecy, she would become a target. Unfortunately, there was someone that overheard us, a spy, working for Voldemort. He only heard the first two lines, however, as did Voldemort later on.”

            “Did you ever learn who the person who overheard was?” asked a trembling Harry.

            “Yes.” answered Dumbledore, not looking Harry in the eye.

            “Who was it, sir?” Harry almost demanded to know.

            Dumbledore sighed once more. “Severus Snape.” he answered.

            Harry felt like he was having an outer body experience, like he was watching the scene with himself and Dumbledore from somebody else’s perspective. He just talked to the man that very morning. To have the knowledge that he worked for Voldemort was... _enraging_. What has Dumbledore thinking, allowing that man anywhere near Harry? But then again, what Dumbledore was thinking was something Harry wanted to know. He conveyed that much, looking pointedly at the Headmaster, waiting for an explanation.

            “Harry, you have to understand, those were dark times indeed. People fought Voldemort, joined him because they believed in him, feared him, or had no other choice. Professor Snape regrets his decision, something that I can absolutely assure you of. He told Voldemort about what he found out, but then he realised what it meant. You see, there were only a few of people who defied Voldemort three times when the prophecy was made, myself excluded. Two of them were your mother and father. Severus still cared deeply for your mother and so he sought me out, to protect them. In return for this, I asked him what he would give me, should I protect Lily and her husband. Severus proclaimed then that he would do anything. So, naturally, I requested his services. He became a spy for me in Voldemort’s ranks. His information helped save a lot of lives during that year.” Dumbledore tried to explain.

            “But not my parents’ lives.” Harry noted darkly. “He painted a target on their back.”

            “He made a mistake, Harry, one that he tries to this very day to repair.” Dumbledore pleaded. “I can show you the memory of it, if you require proof, although Severus wouldn’t like me if I did.”

            “No, I believe you.” Harry decided, letting go of some of his anger. “If you trust that he has made amends for it, then I believe you.”

            “I do. And he does.” responded Dumbledore.

            “But they still died.” Harry said. “Professor Snape may have tried to save them, in the end, but they still died.” he continued, rather frustrated.

            “While Severus made them primary targets, he was not the one who made their deaths possible.” Dumbledore said. “You see, after I heard of Snape’s request, I suggested the two couples that I knew fit the prophecy go into hiding. Your father and mother opted to use the Fidelius Charm, a spell that hides something from everyone else, with only one person knowing where or what it is. I offered to be this person,” the Headmaster said, morosely, “but they refused, saying that I was too important to be in that much danger on their account. I should have insisted more on the subject Harry, if I did, then they may have been alive today, and for that I am sorry.” Dumbledore quietly said, with his eyes watering.

            Harry could see the regret the Headmaster was carrying, a weight that would never lift from his shoulders. But he was eager to hear more of this, so he stayed silent.

            “They wanted to use one of their friends as the Secret Keeper, the one who knows the location of the thing that is hidden. And the only one who could divulge it to anyone else. Trust, Harry, is the basis of this spell, trust that someone will keep your secrets safe. In this case, this was their house in Godric’s Hollow. It’s a rather complex bit of magic. I knew that they were in Godric’s Hollow, but I never knew exactly where, until I was let in by the Secret Keeper, with a piece of parchment divulging their location. Your parents’ being there was hidden from view, along with their house. And so were you. But while we gained Severus, the Dark Lord gained someone else.”

            “The Secret Keeper.” Harry realised. “Voldemort had the Secret Keeper tell him where my parents were. Where _I_ was.”

            “Yes. And telling the secret that is under the Fidelius must be done willingly. The Secret Keeper for the Potters was Sirius Black, someone no one expected to turn Dark. He always renounced his family, who supported Voldemort, and was one of the first to join the Order of the Phoenix, the group I led against the Dark Lord.”

            Harry took a quick look at Fawkes, who was sitting on his perch, making the connection.

            “Yes,” said Dumbledore, noting Harry’s reaction, “I was inspired by Fawkes here. Phoenixes are wondrous beings; they can carry immense weights and their tears have amazing healing powers. And they also make for highly faithful pets.” the Headmaster continued in an admiring tone.

            “My wand had a phoenix tail feather.” Harry remembered. “Well, the one that was meant for me, at least, then _shattered_ in my hand.”

            “Ah, yes.” Dumbledore laughed. “Garrick told me about it. It just so happens, this phoenix in particular is the one that gave the feather that was the core of your wand.” the Headmaster pointed at the bird, who was now watching Harry intently.

            “He also gave Voldemort’s wand a feather.” Harry remarked, still looking at the bird.

            “He did.” admitted Dumbledore. “But back to the topic at hand,” he said, “we were discussing Sirius Black.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “After the deaths of your parents he tracked down Peter Pettigrew, his other friend from Hogwarts and former ally in the Order. Pettigrew accused him of selling James and Lily to Voldemort. They were in a street in a muggle town, in plain view of everyone. Peter tried to overpower Sirius, but he was no match for him, I’m afraid. Sirius Black then made an explosion in the street, killing thirteen muggles and Pettigrew. The only thing left of the poor boy was an index finger from his left hand. Black was then arrested and shoved into Azkaban, our wizarding prison. It is said that the Aurors found him half mad, muttering ‘I killed them’ over and over.” Dumbledore continued.

            “What happened to Remus Lupin, sir?” asked Harry, trying to change the subject that was sincerely horrifying him.

            “He’s still around. He made an inquiry to take care of you after Lily and James died, but since I placed you with your muggle relatives, it hasn’t happened. He expressed several times that he wished to see you, but I leave that to your discretion.”

            “May I have some form of contact information, sir?” asked Harry eagerly. “A phone number, an email address, anything? I just want to know more about my parents and the people the counted as friends.” Harry said. Dumbledore agreed, writing Harry an email from his computer with Lupin’s last known contact details.

            “Thank you, sir.”

            “It is understandable that you wish to learn about them Harry. I would do the same in your place.” Dumbledore reassured him.

            “Sir, how did I survive that night?” Harry remembered. “I heard Voldemort used the Killing Curse, which has no known counter spells or method of undoing. So how did I manage to survive?”

            “A number of factors. You see, Voldemort is pure evil, Harry, he doesn’t understand love or compassion. He understands only fear and power and he uses them to control his followers. But he was so tainted, so darkly turned, that when your parents gave their life to save you, willingly, I might add, they enacted a protection for you. It is old magic, far older than you or I, and it is one that stopped Voldemort from committing the horrifying act of murdering an innocent child.”

            “But if that’s the case, then wouldn’t it be more known to people? Otherwise they wouldn’t call me the Boy-Who-Lived, or whatever. Sir.” Harry added.

            “True, that alone may not have been the only reason you survived, but at this point I have nothing else but theories, nothing concrete. But, ultimately, _love_ , Harry, is the power the Dark Lord knows not. If he did, he wouldn’t be Voldemort, merely Tom Riddle, a brilliant boy who had his whole future in front of him.” Dumbledore’s tone changed at the end. Harry could imagine a boy his age coming into Hogwarts, excited by everything Harry was by the school. He could not picture the same boy being the man that murdered his parents and tried to murder him.

            “Strange, isn’t it?” remarked Dumbledore. “To remember that the worst of people are at the end of the day _people_ , though I daresay Voldemort has long since passed human being standards, deepening himself in the Dark Arts as he did.”

            “He marked me as his equal.” Harry realised. “He gave me the scar and self-fulfilled the prophecy.”

            “Yes, he did.” noted Dumbledore.

            “So that last bit, about him and I having to fight and destroy one another, is that also true?” Harry asked.

            “It may very well be. Voldemort doesn’t know the line itself, but because he believes you to be capable of stopping him, he will never relent in his quest to defeat you. I am sorry to have burdened you so, Harry, but I felt that the truth might’ve given you some comfort, instead of always wondering.” Dumbledore admitted.

            “I know. Thank you, Professor, for telling me.”

            “You might wonder why I placed you with your relatives and then questioned about their behaviour.” at which Harry nodded. “The protection your parents enacted that night is a blood protection. So long as you live with someone of your blood, Voldemort cannot reach you. Like I said, it is stronger magic than what he can understand. I asked if your relatives were treating you well because I had the notion that they weren’t particularly _accepting_ of magic, from what I heard. If they weren’t taking care of you as they should, I would have done everything I could to offer you an alternative means of protection. I would not have you suffer a hard life, even if it meant forgoing your parents’ sacrifice. But, as it stands, you are in better hands than I hoped for. As long as you call your aunt’s house your home and are underage, you are protected. And so are they, in return.”

            “Do you think he will be back, sir? Voldemort, I mean.” asked Harry.

            “Yes, I do. Before you ask, Harry, I do not know how he survived, only that he did, somehow. There are traces of him still. Do not worry about him for now. If the prophecy is to be fulfilled, I will make sure you do not stand alone against him, if at all. You are a target of his, I am afraid, but that doesn’t mean you alone must defeat him, or that you must do it yourself. Divination has a funny way of working, I found out. I told you all of this not to frighten you, Harry, merely prepare you if the worst is yet to come.” Dumbledore noted darkly. “Well, I think I took enough of your time as it is, Harry. Best be off now. And good luck in all your classes, though, from what I hear, you need it not.” Dumbledore smiled, his twinkle returning.

            Harry thanked the Headmaster once more and made a move to the door, but before he could to that, he remembered something else.

            “Sir,” started Harry, making Dumbledore look at Harry with an expectant smile, “you said that very few people met the criteria for being those who the prophecy spoke of. They had to be those who defied Voldemort three times and have a child that is born at the end of July. If my parents were one pair, who was the other. Or, others?”

            “Ah, there was one other pair that fitted the bill, as the muggles say. Frank and Alice Longbottom, Neville’s parents.”

            “Sir, what happened to them? Neville told me he was being raised by his grandmother.” Harry remembered.

            “Unfortunately, his parents were tortured into insanity by Voldemort’s followers, which counted Sirius Black’s cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, among them. His parents are alive, but their minds are damaged beyond repair, and so they reside in a permanent ward in St. Mungos, the wizarding hospital.” Dumbledore explained.

            “That... is even worse than what I got.” Harry said, looking into nothing. “My parents are dead, but at least there is a finality in that. Neville has it worse; to have your parents alive but so out of reach...” Harry could not continue.

            “Young Mr Longbottom faces ordeals every day because of this, that neither you nor I can imagine. While I ask that you don’t tell anyone you do not trust about what we discussed tonight, I ask that you refrain from speaking of Neville’s parents to others. It is his right, after all, to disclose what happened to them.”

            “Yes sir.”

            “Then I wish you a good night, Harry.” Dumbledore said with a note of finality, and Harry proceeded to leave his office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo... we get one-on-one time with Dumbledore this chapter. I wanted to write him to be more trusting and more open to Harry. He should've told him about the Prophecy the minute he stepped into Hogwarts, and I am very well pleased to how this turned out. Although, it might be a tricky road for Harry and Snape in the near future. And Harry's first day was incredibly fun to write, his interaction with his friends and peers and the teachers.  
> Until next time, when we take another dive in background information. And foreshadowing. Lots and lots of foreshadowing.


	6. The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry confronts Snape and gets some insight of how history was made.

 

 

            Harry was still reeling from his conversation with Dumbledore when he caught up with his friends. They wanted to know what the boy and the Headmaster talked about, but among them was Draco, so Harry thought it best to cut back some of the details, saying that they discussed his relatives. Now knowing that Snape had once worked for Voldemort, Harry was a little reticent to divulge the full extent of what Dumbledore said. Lucius Malfoy may have claimed he was under mind control while the Dark Lord was terrorising the world, but Harry had a nagging feeling that it wasn’t the case. So he was still careful around the blond boy, until he showed his true colours.

            After finishing their homework in the library, Harry told Draco that he had to talk to Neville about something, so he went with the timid boy, walking him to the Gryffindor Tower as the others parted ways. Once Harry thought they were alone, finally, he pulled Neville to the side, in an empty classroom on the fifth floor. He told the boy everything Dumbledore said, including the bit about the prophecy. Neville paled during the whole ordeal, more so when Harry said that he knew about the other boy’s parents.

            “I told you because it also concerned you.” explained Harry. “I didn’t want you to not know that I knew about your mom and dad.”

            “Grandmother always says that I shouldn’t be ashamed of them, and I’m not, but...” Neville responded in a strained voice, not quite meeting Harry’s eyes. “I just don’t want people to pity me. Is that bad? If people know about them, they would feel sorry for me, more than they usually do.”

            “Neville, people will always give their sympathies, no matter how much you wished they didn’t. I speak from experience. Whenever I told anyone at my muggle school that my parents died they did that thing they do with their face, I don’t know how to explain it. They frown and scrunch their face, and tilt their head sideways.”

            “Yeah, that.” Neville said.

            “You should try and accept that people will always do that.” Harry tried.

            “I know, Harry. But for now, I want to keep it to myself for a while.”

            “You do know that one Google search about them will yield results, right?” countered Harry. “I checked for Frank and Alice Longbottom on my phone on the way from Dumbledore’s office. I found an article that said what happened to them.”

            “Oh.” mumbled Neville. “I haven’t thought about it. Grandmother never let me use muggle technology. But how would Giggle tell you about my parents?” he continued.

            “Google, Neville, not Giggle. And it’s a search engine, it looks for the words you enter in the search bar in every site that it can. You can get wizard sites results with it if you use a WizTech device.”

            “But there must be thousands of sites!” exclaimed Neville.

            “Try millions of muggle sites with thousand of pages on them each. But yes, there are thousands of wizarding sites. You can search exclusively for them when you use your device, but that’s not the point. Your parents are also mentioned on a page on Witchypedia that’s about Voldemort’s activities during the war. And also a bunch of other mentions of them on numerous sites. So people can find out the truth about them fairly easy, and they will. I’m saying this because I want you to be prepared for that, Neville.” said Harry, reciting what Dumbledore said to him earlier.

            “I... thank you Harry, for letting me know. I appreciate it.” Neville hugged Harry, who held the other boy close, before letting him go. “No one has ever helped me before like you did. I feel bad that I can’t do anything in return for you.” said Neville with a shy smile.

            “Just be my friend, Neville.” Harry beamed. “That’s all I ask. Although, if I ever fall down a hole or something, I wouldn’t say no if you threw down some rope to get me out.” Harry laughed, as did Neville.

            “Still, I think you are my first real friend that I have.” the boy almost whispered.

            “I... that’s kind of you to say, Neville.” Harry responded, not knowing how to react exactly.

            “Have you thought about what you are going to say to Snape, Harry?” Neville asked.

            “Honestly? I don’t know. I mean, I get that Dumbledore has good reason to trust him and that he tried to make good on his mistakes, but his actions still led to our parents being targeted.” Harry sighed.

            “That’s not his fault.” Neville countered. “My parents and your father were Aurors, they fought dark wizards for a living, and your mother was a muggleborn. And like you said, they were all in the Order of the Phoenix, so they were already targets before Snape revealed the first lines of the prophecy. He made things worse, sure, but they weren’t that much better to begin with.

            “That’s incredibly wise of you, Neville. I hadn’t thought of that.” Harry confessed.

            “Thanks. Harry?” asked Neville.

            “Yeah, Nev?”

            “Are you really the only one who can defeat Voldemort if he comes back?”

            “I don’t know. I think, even though he marked me physically, he did the same to you, only more mentally. He may have killed my parents, but what his followers did in his name to yours is way worse. We are both born ‘as the seventh month dies’, we both have ‘the power the Dark Lord knows not’, so it’s possible that it’s the both of us.”

            Neville looked positively faint at that.

            “Okay, I’m not saying we go fight him _now_ , Nev, I’m saying that it is possible we both are capable of defeating him.”

            “Harry, I’m not like you. I’m not smart, I’m not brave, and I’m not the one who could stand up to You-Know-Who! I would be too afraid!” Neville cried.

            “Do you think I’m not scared out of my wits?” countered Harry with a nervous laugh. “I am _terrified_ that Voldemort might target me because of a goddamn fortune teller! But I can’t do anything about it, only accept it’s a possibility for the distant _future_. And you are brave!” Harry exclaimed. “You were placed in Gryffindor for a reason! Besides, courage isn’t the absence of fear, acknowledging it is. And don't dare tell me you're not smart!”

            Neville didn’t look so sure of that, but he looked less like he was about to faint, so Harry counted it as a win.

            “But listen, Neville. While Dumbledore is around we don’t have to worry about Voldemort. The Headmaster is the only wizard he ever feared, after all, and with good reason. So let’s just focus on school for now, yeah? Forget about all of this for a while.” Harry said.

            Neville nodded and the boys went to their respective dorms, with a half and hour to curfew to spare.

            Harry was still in deep thought as he reached the common room door. He was so distracted he didn’t even know when he said the password to open the stone wall. He thought of Snape, and how his father and his friends must have treated him. He always thought of James Potter a kind and good man, but it seemed like it wasn’t always so. James bullied Snape for a long time, and Snape was forever marked by it. He guessed that the Professor turned to the Dark Arts as a means of protection, or because he simply knew no other way. Harry remembered Draco’s words about how some Slytherins turn out bad just because the world thinks they are from the beginning. Was that what happened to Snape? Did James thought Snape was bad news and not worthy of Lily’s companionship, and so it was an old Gryffindor versus Slytherin type of thing? Harry knew that before he came to Hogwarts, the prejudice of Slytherin was even worse than it was now. He guessed that Voldemort must’ve been in Slytherin and thus created this whole stigma, and Gryffindors were thought to be the antithesis of Slytherins, which made this whole fight between the Houses happen. So Snape probably delved into the Dark Arts because he thought he had no other possibility. And turned to Voldemort when he lost Lily, his friend and the girl he cared for deeply.

            But he was still an adult when he made that decision. He was presented with poor options at a young age, and perhaps he _truly_ didn’t know any better, but he still made that choice, regardless. Harry then realised he was having a nature versus nurture argument in his head, and so he resigned to deal with Snape later on, after he had some sleep.

            The rest of his week progressed slowly. Thankfully, his Tuesday was slightly lighter, with only three classes. After double Transfiguration, they had their first class of Defence, taught by Quirrell. The man mumbled and stuttered heavily during their one hour with him. Harry had a hard time understanding a word he said. Neville was the only one who could fully make sense of what Quirrell was saying. Harry was grateful for the existence of VTrunk now more than ever. He had hoped to learn more in Defence, but it seemed that Quirrell was only giving them theory about some mundane creatures and how to defend themselves from them. He smelled like garlic and every time he got close to Harry, he got uncomfortable.

            Wednesday came with rain and with it muddy hallways that Filch, the caretaker, had to mop all day long. He cursed left and right at every track the students made and his cat, one Mrs Norris, hissed at any students that did not wipe their feet. Virtually no one could stand the pair, Filch being an old, crabby man, always mumbling, and his cat was just waiting for you to do something bad so that she would report you to her master. Many students wanted to kick the damn cat just once.

            The first lesson of Herbology took place that day, in one of the greenhouses on the grounds. Harry and his friends made their way through the rain, applying weather repelling charms that Hannah was kind enough to research beforehand.

            Neville, it seemed, took Harry’s advice about focusing on school rather than the prospect of fighting a Dark Lord, because he practically ran the whole class of Herbology. While Harry and some of his other friends knew some things on the subject, Neville displayed an aptitude for the class from the very first question. His eyes were shinning and his stance was confident. It was so out of character for him, Harry had to blink several times to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Professor Sprout, a plump, short woman, with a bubbly personality and dirt under her fingernails from tending plants all day long, was beyond ecstatic at Neville’s performance, noting that she had never seen a student as bright and enthusiastic in her class before.

            “Harry, can I make the notes for Herbology?” Neville asked after the class. “It’s just that I like the subject very much and I want to help you and our friends like you did.”

            “Sure, Nev.” Harry blinked. “You don’t have to ask. In fact, I was about to _beg_ you to do it. _How_ do you understand plants so much?” Harry asked.

            Neville simply blushed and mumbled something unintelligible.

            “Can we all do this?” asked Hermione. “Make notes in advance for classes, I mean. Since you did History, Harry, and Neville offered to do Herbology, I think it would only be fair if we all pitched in.”

            “Normally, I wouldn’t agree with Granger, but she’s right about this.” said Draco, walking by Harry’s side. “It would be a lot easier for all of us if we all did it. I call Potions!” he declared.

            “And I Transfiguration.” decided a smug Hermione.

            “Well, I guess I could do Charms.” said Hannah. “I mean, I think I do okay in that class.”

            “Hannah, you made all your tarts fly at breakfast today, and we haven’t even begun to learn the spell for it in Charms.” said Harry. “I think you go beyond ‘okay’ in this case.

            “Flattery will get you nowhere, Potter.” laughed Hannah. “But thanks.”

            “And I will make the notes for Defence, seeing as Quirrell takes a whole minute to speak a sentence.” Harry drawled.

            “Great!” shouted Hermione happily. “I can’t wait to begin! Oh, let’s go to the library! I want to start now!”

            “Hermione, breathe!” laughed Harry.

            The girl ignored Harry, instead she started to walk faster than the rest and made her way for the library. Her friends had a hard time keeping up with her, because once Hermione made her way to something, there was no stopping. Draco was actually breathing heavily by the time they reached their destination, something Harry suspected the blond boy didn’t very much appreciate.

            Their next Potions lesson, something Harry was dreading a bit, was Thursday. Snape was his usual self, speaking in low, commanding tones and slightly frightening his students. Neville was the most intimidated by him, but with Harry as his potion partner he managed not to crash and burn. Harry had to avoid some disasters along the way, but it wasn’t as bad as he thought and at least Neville was comfortable enough with Harry so that they worked better. Their potion was still a bit off, but no one finished it quite perfectly like in the first class, so Snape didn’t grill into them too badly. Ronald Weasley, however, the redheaded Gryffindor that had Snape berated in the first class, did a very poor job, even with help from his Ravenclaw partner. Snape spoke to him so coldly, Harry had the feeling Ronald would turn into a human icicle. Or that Snape would do it for him.

            After Potions and double Herbology, Harry and his friends had no more classes until Monday, a fact which they all, Hermione excluded, happily welcomed. Harry steered the group away from the library, citing the need for fresh air. The rain from yesterday stopped the previous night, and after some warming Charms, courtesy of Hannah, they sat down under a tree to do their homework and their notes.

            Harry finished with his essay for Astronomy and the notes for the eight chapter of the Defence book, when he stood up and gathered his things.

            “And where are you going, Potter?” asked Draco, suddenly aware of what was happening. “Dinner isn’t for another hour.”

            “I want to talk to Professor Snape about something. I’ll catch up with you when it’s time to eat.” Harry responded, at which his friends simply nodded in acknowledgment.

            “I’ll come with.” Draco offered, perhaps sincerely wanting to escort Harry to see Snape, without an ulterior motive, but it wouldn’t matter anyway. Harry had to speak to the man alone.

            “No, it’s fine, Draco.” Harry placated the boy and bid the others goodbye before Draco could protest further.

            Harry made his way to the dungeons, where he hoped the Professor would be. Snape could’ve been in the teacher’s lounge at this point, although Harry thought to check the timetables on the Hogwarts page for students, halfway down the staircase to the dungeons. Snape had double Potions with the fifth years and would finish in five minutes. Scrolling down further, Harry discovered it was the man’s last class for the day and that gave him the opportunity to speak with him.

            It seemed that Snape was in a good mod, or was rather eager to finish his lessons for the day, because the fifth years were dismissed earlier by the time Harry arrived in front of the classroom. He made way through them and got to the door just as the last of the fifth years was leaving. Snape was at the desk, writing something on his tablet, ignoring everything else. Harry closed the door behind him and began approaching the man, with trembling hands that he made into fists.

            “Matthews, stop leaving your phone on your desk and be more careful with your things.” Snape drawled out.

            “That’s not why I am here, sir.” Harry spoke, making Snape finally look up.

            “Ah. Mister Potter. I thought you were one of my students who keeps leaving his belongings in the class.” Snape intoned. “Why are you here?”

            “I wanted to talk to you, sir.” Harry said simply as he drew a chair to him and sat down in front of Snape’s desk.

            “About what?” Snape raised an eyebrow. “I can’t imagine you would use your spare time just to drop by for some tea. Did you do something?” Snape suddenly used a scolding tone.

            “No, sir, nothing at all.” Harry assured the man. “I talked to Professor Dumbledore the other night and I wanted to talk to you as well.”

            “Potter, I get enough suspense from Game of Thrones. Out with it.” Snape sighed.

            “It’s about the prophecy.” Harry said.

            Snape did not expect that, not in a million years. His face clearly showed it. He was caught off guard, something that was not easy for him. His demeanour shifted, going from cold and calculated to _actually afraid_. Harry noted it was a terrible sight to see.

            “Explain what _exactly_ you know.” Snape intoned, regaining his stance, speaking with a dangerous voice, but Harry was undeterred.

            “Professor Dumbledore told me all about it, although some of the details I guessed myself.” Harry explained. “I know about your relationship with my mother, my father, their friends, and about what you did, Professor.”

            “ _He told you..._ ” Snape started, on the verge of shouting.

            “He told me the basics, I figured out the rest, like I said. He didn’t tell me that you cared deeply for Lily Evans, he just confirmed it when I said it.” Harry interrupted Snape, which he wouldn’t usually do, but this wasn’t a normal circumstance.

            “He still told you by confirming it.” Snape said after a few moments of silently calming himself. “That was not his place, it’s not something that concerns you.”

            “Actually, considering what happened, _it does_ , Professor.” Harry stood his ground. “It concerns me, and it concerns Neville, which is why I told him”

            “You told _Longbottom_ about this?!” Snape shouted angrily.

            “You told Voldemort about the prophecy!” Harry shouted right back, ignoring the way Snape shivered at the name. “You caused two people to die and two to be _tortured_ into insanity because of what you did!”

            “How dare you...!” Snape seethed, but Harry would have none of it.

            “How dare _I_? HOW DARE _YOU_ , PROFESSOR!” Harry raised his voice, standing up, looking the man straight in the eyes, something that gave Snape pause. “You _worked_ for Voldemort, you spied for him, and you gave him the information that would eventually lead to my parents dying! You don’t get to act with indignation when I confront you about it! She was your friend, Professor, Lily was your friend, and she died because of _you_!” Harry continued his tirade.

            Snape looked at the boy with trepidation, not knowing what to say or do at the moment. He recognised that the boy had the right to be angry with him, but bringing up Lily was something he didn’t expect.

            “I know you had your reasons for joining the Dark Lord, and I know that you tried to rectify your mistake and be loyal to Dumbledore,” Harry sighed, calming himself and looking at the desk between them, “and that _ultimately_ you weren’t the one that sentenced them to die. You tried to protect them in the end, _I know that._ But the fact remains that none of it would’ve happened if you didn’t tell Voldemort about the prophecy in the first place. And it was Neville that pointed out that our parents were targets even before what you did, and that you only made them a priority to Voldemort through your actions. He _defended you_ , Professor,” Harry raised his head to look at Snape, whose eyes were now slightly watery, looking into space, “the teacher he is so intimidated by. If I didn’t tell him, I would have a hard time not demanding repercussions for your actions.

            But Dumbledore trusts you, because you have proven yourself. You demanded my parents to be placed under protection, even if it was for the wrong reasons, but you still gave Dumbledore a heads up. If you didn’t, then I wouldn’t have been born. And during that year you gave information that saved a lot of people, so that matters.” Harry continued.

            “Why are you here, Potter? What do you want?” Snape asked the boy in a strained voice, not meeting his eyes.

            “I wanted to talk to you. For the next few minutes, I am not your student, but a kid whose family you’ve wronged. I want you to tell me your side of things. No half truths, no circumventing the issue, no lies. I want to hear you. I am giving you that much.”

            Snape sighed, looking tired and older than he was, but mostly afraid. He spoke to Harry, changing his tone, like he was speaking with an equal.

            “What do you wish to know?” Snape crossed his arms.

            “Everything. Start from the begging.” Harry imitated his stance.

            Snape sighed and swallowed hard. It seemed like he would rather prefer to be thrown from the Astronomy Tower rather than talk about himself. But he had no other choice in the matter. Dismissing Harry would likely earn him trouble later on. If he was to complain to Petunia about it, Snape thought he would be out of Hogwarts so fast he wouldn’t have time to say ‘dunderheads’.

            “I grew up in Cokeworth, near your mother and aunt.” Snape began telling his tale, looking to his right at the shelves with potion ingredients. “My father wasn’t particularly pleased with my magical abilities, so he made my life a living hell. He was a muggle, you see. What my mother saw in Tobias Snape, I will never know. Eileen Prince, my mother, was a pureblood witch, a genius potioneer, how she put up with my father’s abuse is something I will never understand. I didn’t have anyone close to me when I grew up, particularly because I was a wizard, capable of doing things most couldn’t. But then I met your mother, a witch, the only one in her family. She was my only friend when I arrived at Hogwarts.

            Of course, that’s when your father intervened, along with his _friend_ , Sirius Black, who I’m sure you know by now is serving life in Azkaban.” Snape continued without waiting for Harry to acknowledge if he did. “They didn’t very much care for my existence, Potter because he fancied Lily and Black because he was a sadistic bastard.”

            “And you never _once_ fought them back?” Harry asked. “You never tried to pay them back?”

            “Of course I did, in numerous ways. But for the first few years, I never had anyone have my back, so I was alone. Four against one, a cowardice that only Gryffindors like your father would be capable of.” Snape spat.

            “But then you found friends.” Harry ignored the jab at his father.

            “Yes. People in Slytherin, who faced similar predispositions like myself. They would eventually choose to follow the Dark Lord, as you can imagine. And... So did I.”

            “Is is because you and my mother had a falling out?” Harry asked.

            “In part. I was already associating myself with less than desirable company, individuals who became Death Eaters in later life. Of course, your father and his friends sought to punish me even more for that. During fifth year, after the Ordinary Wizarding Level exams, they _humiliated_ me, hanging me upside down with a spell that I created, in front of the student body. Your mother...” and this is were Snape’s voice wavered, “tried to stop them. But I was too angry at them, too full of _hate_ , and I rejected her offer of help, by calling her... by calling her a mudblood.”

            “And that is...?” Harry required an explanation.

            “A foul, derogatory term for muggleborns, one that pureblood supremacists use to demean those not born of magical ancestry. That was the last drop that ended our friendship, no matter how much I tried to apologise. Your father and his friends, I am forced to admit, stopped their treatment somewhat, ending effectively in the middle of sixth year.”

            “That was when my father saved your life.” Harry noted. “I know what you are going to say, but he still did. Lupin would’ve ripped you to shreds if he hadn’t stopped you.”

            “Perhaps. Black displayed a murderous streak even then. I resented your father even more, for having the nerve to save me, even though we couldn’t stand each other. Gryffindors, always _so noble_ when it suited them.

            After I graduated, I delved myself even deeper in the Dark Arts, having little else to do. The only friends I had were those who followed the Dark Lord, so naturally, I did too. I wasn’t participating much in the _front lines_ , as it were, but I was utilised for my aptitudes in potion making and used as a spy. You know what happened next.” Snape finished.

            “Did he ever apologise? My father, did he ever say he was sorry for how he treated you?” Harry quipped.

            Snape clenched his jaw and drew his mouth in a thin line before answering.

            “Yes. I was in the Leaky Cauldron, vying for information I could send back to the Dark Lord, when he approached me.” he choked.

            “And?” Harry inquired further.

            “I told him to shove it. He was on his way to become an Auror and marry the woman I loved. He got it all. And for him to stand before me, apologise, and _invite me_ to their wedding, was too much. All of my doubts about joining the Dark Lord vanished with that. I never saw him alive again.”

            “But he still apologised, or at least tried to.” Harry pointed out.

            “He was most likely sent by your mother to do so.” Snape scoffed.

            “Even if that was the case, and if my mother’s absence in your meeting and her distancing herself from you are any indications, it may not be, he still wanted to apologise. If he truly didn’t want to say he’s sorry, do you believe he would have said it, regardless of my mother? Or do you believe he didn’t mean it, because it’s easier, because that way you don’t have to face the fact that he saw the error of his ways?”

            “What’s this, therapy hour?” Snape growled.

            “Answer the question, Snape.” Harry intoned darkly.

            “I don’t know. I was young and angry, and I couldn’t let it go. He died two years later, as did your mother. I regretted relaying that prophecy to the Dark Lord from the moment I did it. I sought Dumbledore for repentance, and I promised him my undying, unconditional loyalty. And I made good on my promise, to this very day. I did it at first out of obligation, but then I did it because I wanted to. I don’t know if you believe me, Potter, but I am truly sorry for what I did and know that not a day goes by that I don’t regret it.” Snape finished, finally looking Harry in the eye.

            “I believe you made a mistake and you are making up for it, even now.” Harry affirmed. “Whether or not you are truly sorry, that remains to be seen.”

            “Meaning what? Do you want me to go public with what I did? Do you want me to quit my teaching position and leave the castle and yourself for good?” Snape half snickered half breathed.

            “No.” Harry shook his head. “No, none of that. I will not tell anyone, outside of people that I trust, what happened. And I will let this go, just this once, only if you do the same. I want you to forgive my father, so that in return, I may forgive you.”

            “Excuse me?” asked a disbelieving Snape

            “He is not without fault in the formation of your character and your young adult life, which is why I am even considering forgiving you, but you are no innocent in this either. You made a choice, and to be able to truly forgive what you did, you have to accept my father’s apology. Here, right now, you let go of the past, of your anger at James Potter, for good, and I will forgive you.”

            “Just like that?” Snape asked. “I _forgive_ James Potter and all is well?”

            “Yes. But you have to mean it. Truly mean it. You do this, and I let it go, for good. That is a promise. And I keep my promises, Snape.” Harry responded.

            Snape appeared to be in deep thought. Could he do this? Could he let go of what James Potter did to him all and accept the apology he was presented with twelve years ago?

            “I made up for my mistakes. Potter didn’t.” Snape pointed out, without any malice.

            “He didn’t get to, because you didn’t give him a chance.” Harry retorted. “Let it go, Snape, and it will be the last you are reprimanded for your spying from me or even Neville.”

            “Very well. If this is what you ask in return, then I will.” Snape decided. “You are clearly beyond your years, mister Potter. I thought you to be like your father when you arrived at Hogwarts, but it is more evident every day that you are more like your mother.”

            Snape actually _smiled_ at Harry, even though it was a sad smile. It was an unnerving thing to witness, truly, but Harry just nodded.

            “Thank you, Professor, for being honest with me. I will leave you to your work. Now, if there isn’t anything else, I will see you on Monday.” Harry made a move to leave, but Snape held his hand up to stop him.

            “Hold it, Potter. Since I am your Head of the House and we are now so _buddy-buddy_ with each other, I will permit you to speak without _formalities_ when we are alone. While it may seem strange to you for me to offer such a thing, I think we now go beyond your average student-teacher relationship.” Snape drawled out.

            “So this means that I can call you _Severus_?” Harry clarified.

            “Yes, you may.” Snape rolled his eyes. “But only when we are alone or in friendly company. I would not have my authority of other students be compromised.” Snape intoned. “Think of it as a show of good faith, me accepting your familiarity with myself.”

            “I will, Severus, thank you. And don’t worry, I won’t brag about this to people.” Harry assured the man.

            “See that you don’t. And one more thing, Potter. Be careful around young mister Malfoy. It is not out of the realm of possibility that his intentions may not be that friendly.”

            “I know, thank you. I am giving him a chance, but I am keeping an eye on him, don’t worry.” Harry laughed.

            “In any case, should anything happen with him, don’t hesitate to come to me, Potter.” Snape added.           

            “You can call me Harry, you know? Since we are all ‘buddy-buddy’.” Harry recited Snape’s words.

            “Not until the day I die, _Potter_.” Snape deadpanned, returning to his attention to his tablet. “Now go, and try dial down the discoveries for a while.”

            “Of course. Have a good weekend, Severus.” Harry bid the man goodbye, getting a grunt in return.

            So that was interesting, Harry thought. He came in Snape’s... Severus’ class almost sure he would have to fight the man to get the truth, but it seemed like the Professor’s rationality won over. Harry imagined that he would count Severus among his friends sometime in the future, which made him laugh out loud.

            While it was hard for him to forgive the man, he made a promise. So long as Snape forgave James, Harry would forgive Snape. An even trade, the boy thought. Neville would think so too, after Harry would relay the conversation between him and the Potions Master.

            He spent the weekend more by himself, meeting with his friends for short periods of time. Instead, he paid a visit to Hagrid, in the giant man’s hut on the school grounds. The house was modest and homey, with a lit fireplace Harry roasted marshmallows above of, while keeping the treat away from Hagrid’s dog, Fang.

            Hagrid and Harry talked a bit about Harry’s first week at Hogwarts and his new friends that he made. Hagrid was delighted to hear all about it, like he was living vicariously through Harry. Which was odd. I mean, who would want to relieve their school years? But Harry then remembered a conversation between Hagrid and Ollivander, something about wand remains. Which could only mean one thing:

            “Hagrid, were you expelled from Hogwarts?” Harry asked during his visit.

            The giant man suddenly became clumsy, as he nearly dropped a plate of cupcakes on the floor, something Fang desperately wished for.

            “Who told yeh abou’ that?” Hagrid asked after blinking rapidly several times in a row.

            “You did, just now. I had a suspicion, but before you confirmed it, I wasn’t sure.” Harry responded.

            “Anyone ever tell yeh tha’ yeh’re too smart fer yer own good?” Hagrid huffed.

            “Constantly.” Harry agreed.

            “Yeah... I was expelled durin’ my second year.” Hagrid responded, making busy with his cupcakes.

            “May I ask why?” Harry inquired.

            “I don’ wanna talk abou’ it.” Hagrid responded, giving Harry a cupcake. Harry was surprised to find out that they were the most delicious things he had ever eaten.

            “Hagrid, these are really good!” Harry complimented him

            “Before I could get some recipes off the internet, I used ter make them as hard as rocks.” Hagrid laughed. “And everyone was too polite ter say anythin’ to me.”

            “That’s silly.” Harry admonished. “How are you supposed to improve if no one tells you that you are doing something wrong?”

            “Musta’ they’ve been tryin’ ter spare my feelings.” Hagrid shrugged.

            “Thankfully, you learned better. Say, ever thought of opening a bakery or something?” Harry smiled.

            “Nah, I would have ter leave the school and make Dumbledore find another gamekeeper. I can’t do that.”

            Harry thought that given Dumbledore’s apparent sweet tooth, he would be Hagrid’s first customer. His suspicion proved to be even truer, as Hagrid wrapped up some cupcakes and called a school owl to deliver them to the Headmaster.

            Sunday morning, at breakfast, Harry, Hermione, Neville and Draco were all sitting at their table, making comments every once in a while about the notes they were making. Harry was sharing his laptop with Neville, so the other boy could read the Herbology textbook as he wrote down on his tablet from Harry. It was then that the owls arrived in the Great Hall, carrying packages. Harry easily spotted Hedwig as she descended on their table. Harry sometimes saw her as she came to breakfast every other day, but this was the first time she carried something for him. Most owls no longer carried messages in letters, but packages to be delivered. Hedwig had a small box on her leg, wrapped up in paper.

            “Right on time. Thank you, Hedwig. Would you like some bacon?” Harry talked with his owl. Hedwig gave a sound of approval and nibbled on the food Harry had set aside just for her.

            “She is really pretty, Harry.” Hermione remarked, at which Hedwig raised her wing and touched the girl on her nose, as if saying ‘I like this one’. Hermione gave a nervous laugh as Hedwig turned back her attention to her bacon, picked some up in her beak, rubbed her head against Harry’s cheek and flew away.

            “Ah, here we go.” Harry declared as he opened the package. “Neville, this is for you.” the boy said as he handed him a box.

            “What is it?” Neville turned the object in his hand.

            “A SIM card for your device. You know, so that we can call you if needed.” Harry responded as he petted Hedwig’s feathers.

            “Oh, you didn’t need to do that. Really, you’ve already done so much for me.” Neville wanted to refuse Harry, but the boy was already happy at the prospect of being able to make calls.

            “Nonsense. I gave you a device that can make calls but never gave you the option. Now you can. I just added you to my data plan. You know, how many minutes you can talk on it, how many messages you can send offline and network usage.” Harry explained.

            “Harry, that all costs money!” Neville suddenly looked affronted. “I know you just lent this to me,” Neville wiggled his _Titan_ in his hands, “but you have to pay money for stuff like that! _Monthly_!” he protested further.

            “How do you know that?” Draco asked, frowning. “I thought you didn’t have much to do with technology, Longbottom.” the blond boy drawled out.

            “I heard Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan talk about it.” Neville scoffed, so unlike him. Draco’s presence must’ve rubbed on him, it seemed. “My dorm mates.” he clarified when Harry raised an eyebrow.

            “Yeah, it costs me, but it’s not much, I promise.” Harry said. Well, it wasn’t exactly true. It was a small sum by Harry’s standards, but Neville’s data plan was exactly the same as his, with unlimited texting, call duration and internet.

            “How much is it?” Neville asked, pointedly. “It can’t be more than how much I get for my allowance.”

            “How much is that, by the way?” Draco asked. Harry thought he detected a slight tone of smugness in the boy’s voice, but merely regarded him with a look.

            “Ten galleons a month.” Neville said, unsure of what it had to do with anything. Inside, Harry blanched. But Draco was the one that made an exterior reaction.

            “ _Ten_?! For a pureblood wizard heir?” Draco shouted, but thankfully no one in the vicinity of their table heard him.

            “What’s wrong with that?” Neville defended himself.

            “It’s very little, is what’s wrong with it!” Draco retorted. “You are a pureblood wizard heir, and _I know_ that you don’t have so little money that you have to get that amount!”

            “Well, maybe his grandmother thinks that Neville shouldn’t have access too much money, given that he is _eleven_.” stressed Hermione, tapping away at her phone before raising her head to look at the boys.

            “ _Really_.” Draco intoned sarcastically. “And how much money do _you_ get from home, Granger?” he clicked his tongue for emphasis.

            “I get two hundred fifty pounds for extra spending, although I asked my parents to not send them monthly, but rather send it whenever I run out, which will take a while, considering I don’t lack anything at the moment.” Hermione went on a tangent, hoping to derail the conversation.

            “And how much is two hundred fifty pounds in galleons?” Draco asked her, but his face showed that he knew the answer already, he just wanted Hermione to say it out loud.

            “Fifty galleons.” Hermione sighed. “But again, it’s for more than a month and they send me more because I have to be more independent while I’m at Hogwarts.” she reasoned.

            “We’re _all_ independent while we’re here, Granger!” Draco retorted.

            “But I can’t ask my parents to go to Diagon Alley for me and but me potion ingredients or something, now can I?” Hermione noted. “I have to order it or go myself, and that means _I_ have to pay for it personally. Neville has his grandmother, _a witch_ as his caregiver, she can deal with paying for everything that Neville would need.”

            Hermione had a point there, Harry had to admit, but Draco looked unconvinced still, while Neville was just frowning, looking at the table, like he was in deep thought.

            “ _Be that as it may_ ,” Draco almost spat, “Longbottom is still a member of a very old wizarding line that’s not without its riches. Ten galleons a month, I can’t believe...” Draco trailed off, muttering in his hands that he put over his face in disbelief.

            “Wait, what old wizarding line?” Hermione asked, clutching her phone above the table and starting to tap at it furiously.

            “No freaking way.” gasped Draco at Neville, who was looking redder and redder by the second. “ _They don’t know_? You haven’t told them?” the blond boy questioned the other.

            “It’s nothing...” Neville mumbled, but Draco caught it.

            “ _Nothing?!_ ” Draco looked positively offended. “Do you even _hear_ yourself? I swear, Longbottom...”

            “Okay, what am I missing?” Harry interrupted them, angrily, before Draco’s shouts could escalate.

            But it was then that Hermione dropped her phone on the table, with a shocked expression on her face. She looked at the screen of the device as if it told her she was going to fail her classes. She slowly turned to look at Neville, maintaining her face, with her jaw to the floor and eyes larger than food platters.

            “You are Godric Gryffindor’s _heir_?” the girl intoned, accentuating every syllable in her sentence.

            It was Harry’s turn to look shocked now. Nothing, in all those pages that mentioned the timid boy’s parents, was anything remotely like that. He looked at Neville, who wanted nothing more than to disappear, or at least be swallowed by the ground whole.

            “Yeah, but it’s not a big deal. I mean, he’s just one of my ancestors, nothing else.” Neville said, looking at his feet.

            “One of the Founders is your ancestor, and it’s no big deal?” Hermione almost dissolved into a puddle of frustration.

            “Hey guys, guess what?” said a voice. As they all turned to it, they saw Hannah sitting down to Harry’s right, between him and Draco.

            “Did you know that we have a Founder’s heir sitting with us at the table?” Hermione suddenly jumped.

            “Besides Neville and I?” Hannah asked nonplussed, placing her phone down and grabbing some things from the food plates.

            “ _WHAT?!_ ” Hermione screeched at the girl, visibly losing the colour in her face.

            “Yeah, Neville’s Gryffindor’s heir, and I’m Hufflepuff’s. Didn’t I mention this before?” she asked herself more than the other occupants of the table, to which Hermione and an equally surprised Harry shook their heads and said ‘No’. “Oh well, I’m one of the heirs Hufflepuff has, a little out of the way of the main branch, but still one of the last ones. There are two more, besides my dad and my Grandpa, but I always forget their names. And they always _smell_. Like, I know you are ancient, but _take a bath_.” Hannah trailed off, cutting up some eggs. “And they are always at family reunions, going on and on about blood purity, the importance of our bloodline, blah blah blah...” the girl looked up in a sigh while gesticulating with her knife dangerously close to Harry. “Neville here actually comes from the main line and all that nonsense. I mean, like straight line from Gryffindor to him.” she emphasised by cutting the air in front of her vertically with her knife in a short jab.

            “Okay, easy there with the pointy end, Hannah.” Harry rested his hand upon hers in an attempt to calm her.

            “Right, sorry.” she said, eating with her fork and setting down her knife.

            “Two heirs of the Founders...” Hermione mumbled.

            “Never mind that for now.” Harry advised her. “Hannah, you wanted to tell us something before?” Harry turned his attention to the blonde girl.

            “Huh?” she intoned, with eggs in her mouth. “Oh, right!” she swallowed. “Silly me, I forgot. There was a break in at Gringotts!” she exclaimed, taking her phone in her hands, ignoring the shouts of disbelief from her friends. “Says right here, “she started to read from her phone, “that there was an intruder in Gringotts reported last night, and they tried to break into one of the vaults from the lower section, but nothing was taken, the goblins insist.”

            “What vault?” asked a concerned Draco.

            “Vault 713, if you must know.” Hannah regarded Draco, but Harry was trying to remember why that reminded him on something. It came to him when Hannah said: “But apparently the vault in question was already emptied of its contents some time before this.”

            Harry’s blood ran cold at that very moment. Vault 713 was the one he visited with Hagrid back in the summer, the day after Dudley’s birthday. Someone had tried to break in that vault and steal the small package Hagrid retrieved, believing it was still there.

            But what was so important about that thing wrapped in cloth and tied with a string? Whose was it? It could’ve been Hagrid’s, but vault 713 was on one of the lower levels, where the bigger treasures were kept. Whatever that was it was valuable and well guarded. Harry doubted Hagrid was the owner, considering that he lived in a wooden house and he would have much more money if he had a vault that deep.

            The letter. Hagrid had a letter with him when he went with Harry to Gringotts that day. And then he said that it was Hogwarts business and that Harry shouldn’t say anything about it. If it was Hogwarts business, and Harry doubted Hagrid would be dishonest with him, then the letter had to have been from Dumbledore to the goblins. Who else besides the Headmaster would’ve had the authority necessary?

            But what did Dumbledore had to do with it all? Did the object in the vault belong to him? Or belonged someone that trusted Dumbledore to take it and... And do what, exactly? Use it? Hide it somewhere better? There was only one place safer than Gringotts, in Harry’s opinion, and that was the castle. Such a vast and well guarded place, with magical protections and who knows what else would be the perfect thing to hide something valuable if you didn’t want anyone to find it. Seriously, whoever thought to try and find it would have a hard time indeed. It could’ve been taped to the underside of the Head table and no one would know.

            Harry was broke out of his reverie when Neville started waving furiously in his face. Harry jumped slightly to see that all of the eyes at the table were set on him.

            “What’s going on in that head of yours, Harry?” asked Hannah.

            “Just thinking what could’ve been in that vault and why would someone steal it. I mean, there had to be more valuable things down below, why that one specifically?” Harry pondered out loud, mindful of the look Draco was giving him.

            “Maybe they couldn’t get further than that. Or maybe the defences on the lower vaults were too much.” Hermione speculated.

            “It doesn’t matter now.” Neville shrugged. “Harry, how much?” the boy said, turning his attention to the green eyed boy.

            “How much for what?” Harry blinked.

            “The data plan thingy. How much will it cost me?” Neville said as he reached down his robes and produced a circular wallet.

            “Neville, it’s okay, really, it’s a really small amount.” Harry tried, but it was one of the few time the other boy wouldn’t relent.

            “No, not this time.” he looked Harry in the eye. “You lent me your tablet, you share your notes with me, and now you give me the option of having an actual phone. Let me pay the cost of the bill for the last one, at least. Please.” Neville pleaded, wanting to repay Harry for his kindness.

            “Okay, okay!” Harry raised his arms defensively. “No need to take my head off.” he laughed. “It’s one galleon per month.” Harry revealed.

            “Wait, really? That little?” Neville looked unconvinced.

            “I told you it’s a small amount” Harry shook his head in amusement. “Now hand it over if you’re so adamant about it.” he outstretched his arm and Neville placed one golden coin in his hands. It was weird looking at one for the first time, but Harry placed it in his pocket after a while.

            “I’m kinda jealous Neville gets all the goods.” Hannah said as the boy in question was putting his SIM card in his device with Hermione’s help.

            “I’ll get you all something for Christmas, I promise.” Harry smiled. “Say, Hermione, how did you find Neville’s ancestry that fast?” Harry remembered to ask the bushy haired girl.

            “Oh, there’s this fascinating page about wizard genealogy, absolutely brilliant!” she chirped, sending the link to Harry through their group for everyone to see.

            “Pfft, I could’ve told you about what’s in here, Potter.” Draco scoffed, looking at his screen. “Did you know that we’re technically related?” he half smiled.

            “Really?” Harry gasped. “But I thought that only my muggle relatives had any relation to me.”

            “Well, _directly,_ yes.” Draco added after a moment’s silence. “But almost all of the wizarding families are related somehow, even if by alliance. Okay, so... Abbott, trade place with me.” Draco commanded as the blonde girl took her plate and occupied Draco’s former seat, as the boy sat next to Harry to show him something on his phone.

            “So, here we have Cygnus Black, who married Violetta Bulstrode, and they had Dorea Black and Pollux Black, among others.” Draco said as he carefully traced the lines with his finger.

            “And she married Charlus Potter, who... had a son, James Potter!” Harry almost shouted. “That’s my dad!” he pointed at the screen.

            “Yeah, yeah, hold your horses, I’m not done yet.” Draco chided him, but the enthusiasm was contagious, as he cracked one of his rare smiles. “Now, Pollux Black and his husband, Darius Crabbe used Irma Crabbe, Darius’ sister, as a surrogate for their three children, which I know, how much do you love your brother to have his husband’s children _three times_ , but anyway,” Draco waved that information off like it wasn’t the biggest revelation for Harry that wizards could marry each other in the fifties, “among their kids was my grandfather Cygnus Black the... I don’t know, second or third, who...”

            Draco suddenly shot a look at Neville, who was fiddling with his tablet to add contacts with Hermione’s help. Harry saw on Draco’s screen that he had scrolled to the portion that displayed Narcissa, Bellatrix and Andromeda Black. Harry saw a line from Bellatrix to Rodolphus Lestrange and immediately made the connection: Draco’s maternal aunt and uncle by marriage were the ones responsible for Neville’s parents’ torture, which was something Draco was obviously not keen on bringing up. But Harry doubted Neville would blame Draco for that one, seeing as he defended _Snape_ of all people.

            “Erm, yeah, he had three daughters, including my mother, and she married my father and had me.” Draco turned his screen off. “So, that means we’re second cousins once removed and you and my mother are simply second cousins.” he turned to Harry.

            “That’s... incredibly weird to think of you as a cousin. We share blood.” he laughed.

            “Potter, _please_ , we share like...” Draco did the math in his head for fifteen seconds, drawing with his finger in the air, looking into space and muttering numbers under his breath. “One point five percent blood relation.” he declared.

            Harry was suddenly taken aback. “You should take Arithmancy in third year. That was impressive.”

            “Thank you for the compliment.” Draco nodded curtly, but Harry knew it was a mock like action. He couldn’t believe it, Draco Malfoy was actually trying to be _funny_. “You’re also related to Longbottom over there, although it’s more flimsy than with I.” he added. “Wait, don’t let me look, let’s see if I remember this correctly.” Draco declared dramatically, putting a hand over his eyes as Harry opened the link Hermione sent from his device, now changed as a tablet for better viewing. He went to the Black family tree and waited.

            “Okay.” Draco intoned, still holding his left hand over his eyes. “Start with Phineas Nigellus Black, married Ursula Flint, one of their kids was Arcturus Black, Cygnus Black the first or second’s brother, married Lysandra Yaxley, one of _their_ kids was Callidora Black, who married Harfang Longbottom, who had Cetus Longbottom, married Augusta Whirmound, had Frank Longbottom, who married Alice Terrance and had our Longbottom. Which would make him your third cousin, once removed” he finished in two breaths. “How did I do?” he asked Harry, removing his hand.

            “Perfectly.” added Harry after a second of taking it all in. “How do you do that?” he asked.

            “I was grilled into in pretty young.” Draco shrugged, taking his phone back to browse something.

            “Wait, if I’m related to you by blood, and I’m also related to Neville by blood...”

            “Well, _barely._ ” Draco interrupted, not looking at Harry. “With him even less than I. I at least have the decency to share above one percent of blood with you, whereas he shares point seventy percent with you, or something.”

            “Aren’t _you_ related to him as well?” Harry added in a cheeky manner.

            “Well,” Draco looked up, huffing, “if... actually, I want to see if he also knows. Longbottom!” he shouted, getting the blue eyed boy’s attention. “What’s our grade of relation? I’m asking for a friend.” he made a head gesture at Harry, who was startled to hear such a thing from Draco. But then he remembered who he was and so he dialled down his excitement on the matter to half.

            “I think...” Neville started to count on his fingers, “fourth cousins? I don’t know.”

            “Wow, you got _something_ right.” Draco smirked.

            “We were talking about the Black family relation, right?” Neville asked.

            “Are we related through any other family?” Draco countered.

            Harry wasn’t listening to the conversation any longer. He was too fixated on the family tree. There were all these deranged people that served in Azkaban or served the Dark Lord, or both.  Above Sirius Black’s line, Harry could see the names of his parents, Orion and Walburga Black. And they were _cousins_ for god’s sake. Why would someone marry their first cousin? And then have two children, nonetheless?

            Harry could see that he was one of the last of the Blacks to be alive. Draco and his mother were two more, but Bellatrix and Sirius were in prison, and there was a red line underneath Andromeda, which Harry discovered that it meant she was disowned. There was no such line underneath him, or his father.

            “Why do you think your aunt Andromeda was kicked out, Draco?” Harry asked the blond boy.

            “Oh, her?” he responded, scrunching his nose. “She married a muggleborn, some Ted Tonks. Mother doesn’t like to speak of it.”

            “But why wasn’t my father disowned? He did the same, marrying my mother.” Harry countered.

            “It’s possible that because your grandmother married a Potter and changed her name no one had to pay attention to what was happening to her children.” Draco responded thoughtfully. “I mean, they had others to deal with in the family, a bunch of other heirs, but by the time your mother and father married, there were very few Blacks actually alive, and none Heads of the Houses.”

            “But...” Harry looked closely on the family tree, “Look, Walburga Black was still alive when I was born. She died when we were five. So how come she didn’t know about my mom and that, considering there were very few Blacks left?”

            “She was not the Head of House Black, Potter. House of Black is one of the very old ones and the very few that pass the title only to their male descendants. You included, apparently.” Draco noted.

            “Huh?” was all that Harry could say.

            “Eloquent, _truly_.” Draco drawled out. “But you could be the only living male heir that’s not in prison or anything. So you may get the title of Head of House Black when the time comes.”

            “Me? Why not you?” Harry refused to believe.

            “Because you are one branch above me, technically.” Draco explained, looking rather annoyed by it. “Because Dorea Black and Charlus Potter had their children so late in life, but because they were younger than Dorea’s siblings, James Potter is first cousin to my grandfather and you are second cousin to my mother, which places you higher than I am.”

            “This is so weird.” Harry shook his head.

            “Try learning it all your life.” Draco sighed, taking an apple from the table. “C’mon, we promised Zabini we would play chess with him today.” the blond boy said as he rose from the table.

            “Oh, right. Bye guys, talk to you later!” Harry quickly said to his friends and sped up to catch up with Draco. He was a bit annoyed that he was distracted by all the talking he did, so that when they had time to leave, Draco just took advantage of the situation and caught Harry off guard.

            “Why _do_ you give so much stuff to Longbottom, anyhow?” Draco asked on their way to the common room.

            “He’s my friend and he needed my help. I would do the same for any of my friends.” Harry carefully said, hoping that would spark something in the other boy. It seemed it had, because Draco changed topics and as they arrived in the common room, Harry had a crash course in wizarding genealogy, something that made his head feel heavy with information.

            “...And the Weyrr family is all died out, like _really dead._ They were Slytherin’s descendants, but their name disappeared when they married into the Gaunts and then the Gaunts died a few generations later. “

            “There you are!” shouted a happy Blaise. “I was beginning to worry. Now, who is the first victim?” he proudly challenged them.

            But it seemed his prowess in chess was a little exaggerated, as Harry finished his game with Blaise in a tie, and Harry didn’t play that much chess, and Draco all but _obliterated_ him. Truly, his pieces were so brutal towards Blaise’s that Harry was considering calling a foul. Draco, it seemed, was an accomplished chess player. On the board, sure. But in real life game of chess, Harry had the suspicion he wasn’t so good, seeing as he fumbled with excuses to follow Harry almost everywhere the boy went.  

            The three boys stood by the windows, occasionally catching a glimpse of something in the waters. Harry could swear he saw a tentacle of the Giant Squid that lived in the lake. Which was weird when you thought about it, because squids are usually sea animals, and the lake was freshwater. Harry voiced his concerns out loud to the boys.

            “The Black Lake connects to the Atlantic Ocean somewhere to the west.” Draco explained as he took one of Blaise’s rooks. “The water from the lake comes from a river from the mountains and then it goes in the ocean, just like that. The squid probably came through the channel connecting the two and stayed here for some reason.”

            “A squid that lives for more that fifty years?” Harry remembered.

            “I didn’t say it came in alone.” Draco countered.

            Although Harry had a suspicion that it was highly unlikely that more than one squid found their way to a body of freshwater and stayed there, he said nothing more on the subject.

            He was thinking about the Black family tree and how his name ended up there, among torturers, murderers, and traitors. And he was somehow supposed to inherit that legacy? By sheer coincidence, no less. The conversation went from Neville’s family, to Draco’s and then Harry’s. Clearly, pureblood inbreeding was worse than Harry thought at first; to have so many strangers or the people around him as his distant family was staggering. He just thought of his aunt, uncle and cousin as his family, no one else.

            And now he was somewhat related to the man that betrayed his parents and sentenced them to death. He looked at the tree once more, seeing that Sirius Black was the only other living male heir of House of Black. But he was in Azkaban, serving a sentence for life. So that made Harry the heir, it seemed. But the goblins didn’t say anything about it when he came to Gringotts. They just presented him with the inheritance from the Potter family. Not one mention of House of Black. So how was Harry the heir in that case? The goblins didn’t seem like the type to withhold information when it came to their clients. Unnerving creatures, yes, but they had a frankness about them that made Harry think twice about the whole thing.

            Was it possible that Sirius Black was _still_ the heir? Even after all he’s done? If it was any indication, House of Black seemed to be somewhat in favour of blood supremacy, and by association Voldemort. That being said, Harry wasn’t kicked out of the Black family for being a half-blood, nor was his father for marrying a muggleborn. But perhaps Draco was right and there was no Head of the House to have kicked the Potters out. And through his actions, Sirius Black showed that he was a true member of his family and joined the Dark Lord.

            But he was still in _prison_ , Harry reasoned with himself. What good would it do to him all the money and the titles of House of Black if the man was in Azkaban? Would the title not pass on to Harry until the man was dead or until Harry was of age? But Harry was heir of Potter, the goblins told him that. But nothing of Black.

            Harry shook his head, deciding to put it out of his mind. There were too many questions for him for one day. He resigned to watch as Draco checkmated Blaise for the second time in a row. He patted the loser of the two on the back and got a book to read during their second rematch.

            And then there was the matter of Draco, who was increasingly trying his hardest to be around Harry. Whether it was coming from a friendly place or a more hidden intention, Harry wasn’t sure. But he knew that soon he would have to deal with the boy, one way or the other. Harry hoped for a peaceful resolution, because Slytherin was tense around him enough, not knowing what to say to him or how to act, excluding the first years. Having Draco as an enemy in the same House, in the same _dorm_ , would be difficult for the boy, even with Severus’ support on the matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it took so long to put this today, I was busy at work and I totally spaced out. God, I am a mess.  
> On a story note, I was not sure of the conversation between Harry and Snape, but having read it again, I am feeling quite good about it. The compromise was the only way they wouldn't fall into each other's bad graces, 'cause if Snape was on bad terms with Harry, he would've been in a world of trouble. I had the option of having Snape and Harry experience a falling out before I posted the story, but I changed it last minute. I want to show a better Snape than in the books. And remember, just because it seemed like your only choice at the time, it doesn't necessarily mean it's the right one. Until next time, hugs and kisses!  
> P.S.: Don't you just LOVE foreshadowing?


	7. The Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the first Flying Class goes suddenly awry, Harry has a bit of an incident. And there is something in the halls of Hogwarts, three times as dangerous as anything else.

 

            Harry seemed to get used to the schedule at Hogwarts by the second week. He now knew the main pathways to his classes and his dorms, and of course, the library. The last one he could do with his eyes closed, seeing as Hermione wanted to drag them all there every waking second. The fact that it started to rain again and didn’t want to stop didn’t help matters for an outside study session.

            Draco was becoming increasingly difficult to deal with, being plastered at Harry’s side almost all the time. He calmed down a bit when Harry asked if he wanted to go to the bathroom with him and wipe his arse while he was at it. Draco was red for a whole hour after that, muttering things under his breath. But it didn’t take long for the behaviour to come back. Everywhere Harry went, Draco had to come with. Harry didn’t have a moment alone with either of his other friends. And there were tensions between Neville, Hannah, Hermione, and Draco. Hermione in particular was the most uncomfortable of the three, seeing as sometimes Draco regarded her with slight inferiority, something that Harry had to stomp down several times. It seemed that Draco thought himself untouchable, being Harry’s friend. He sometimes bragged about it to others that he was one of Potter’s closest confidants. One person in particular, Ronald Weasley, didn’t take too kindly at that, but Harry paid them no mind.

            Hermione: _Why are you friends with him? He is just so unpleasant sometimes._  She sent a text message to Harry, Sunday night, the second week.

            Harry: _You know why._ He sent back. He was in his bed, having called his relatives earlier, but could not sleep, so he was playing on his device until he was tired. But apparently Hermione was also up, at 11:47 at night.

            Hermione: _I know that you want to give him a chance and all, but sometimes I feel that you are too compassionate for your own good. He is mean, he thinks himself better than others and he is using your friendship as a means to boast himself._

            Harry: _I am aware of that, ‘Mione. But I am hoping to change that for the better. He stopped with his muggleborn comments towards you when I pointed out my mother was one, didn’t he?_

Hermione: _Stopped in front of you, perhaps. Who’s to say that he won’t say anything to me if we are alone?_

Harry: _I still count it as a slight win. Changing’s one perception of the world takes a lot of work._

Hermione: _Look, I know you like to play Freud sometimes, but I’m scared if you go wrong somewhere you and Draco would end up on opposite sides._

Harry: _Look at you, being all cheeky and smart at the same time._

Hermione: _I’m being serious here._

Harry: _I know, I know. But he still hasn’t done anything so bad that I won’t be friends with him. And he is nice, sometimes, when we are alone. He thinks I don’t see it, but he is._

Hermione: _I just have a bad feeling about this, Harry._

Harry: _Hermione, think about where he comes from. He grew up with his father, he is a pureblood heir, with the expectations that come with that, he is supposed to dislike muggles and prance around in his status. But he wanted to know about the muggle technology so badly he had to convince his mother to talk to his father and get him his laptop and phablet. And I know his father wasn’t pleased, he told me so. But he is curious, he wants to see what the deal with muggles is, and he is less antagonistic towards them every day. You should have seen him when I told him about Doctor Who, he practically wet himself in excitement. He even watched some of the episodes!_

            Harry: _And I know, even if he won’t admit it, that he respects you for having such an interest in wizarding culture and that you try and apply yourself to that. Begrudgingly, yes, but he still does._

Hermione: _Sorry, I was in the bathroom. I don’t know Harry, I just think that we should be more careful with him now more than ever._

            Harry: _I will, don’t worry. Look, I’ll talk to you in the morning. I need some rest. That last Defence chapter was so stupidly worded it gave me a headache. Again._

Hermione: _Okay, but before you do, I need to ask you what in world is a phablet._

Harry: _Oh, it’s the term muggles use for phones that have a screen almost as big a tablet. Apparently, for wizards, the term is used for_ Titan _devices, like mine, Neville’s and Draco’s._

Hermione: _Ah, right then. Anyway, thanks for talking to me, Harry. Good night._

Harry: _Good night, Hermione_.

            The boy watched Draco carefully for the next few days. He often got letters from home, which Harry thought was a bit over on the top anti-muggle devices stance his father was probably part of, he was always writing things in one of his notebooks every time he thought no one watched him and he was constantly asking Harry questions about his family. Harry had to often avoid the topic or give only half truths, but if he kept it up Draco would’ve caught on eventually. The blond boy already seemed to think Harry suspected something, because he got slightly aggressive when Harry got evasive. Thankfully, Harry always had a reason to distract the boy in the form of his other friends, who took a page from Draco and started following them almost everywhere but their dorm.

            Thursday after lunch the first years had their flying lesson with Madam Hooch. They were in the courtyard between the Quidditch pitch and the Astronomy Tower, standing in two separate lines, with broomsticks lying beside them. Madam Hooch was a middle aged woman who looked like a hawk and had a clear, commanding tone every time she spoke.

            “Welcome to your first flying lesson.” she declared to the first years. “Now, stand next to the brooms, on whichever side your dominant hand is.”

            Harry was between Hermione and Neville, who looked scared out of his wits. Hermione less so, determined to do her best, but there was a frightened look about her. Draco and Hannah were standing in front of them, both confident and unafraid.

            “Raise your hand above the broom and say ‘Up’.” she told the class.

            Everyone did as she said, trying to command the broom to come in their hands from the ground. Harry was the only one who could call it from the first try. He was a bit surprised that it happened, considering he barely even thought of calling on the broom. He didn’t even _say_ anything. Neville’s broom remained fixated on the ground, perhaps feeling that Neville had no intention of ever flying. Hermione’s was rolling on the ground, possibly for the same reasons. Hannah got it after a few tries, making a triumphant cheer afterwards. Draco, however, didn’t seem to put enough feeling behind his command, saying the words lazily. But these were old school brooms, not as new and sensitive as the ones Draco was used to. He finally had enough after a few tries and commanded ‘Up’ strongly, through his teeth, as if thoroughly angry with the object. It was then the broomstick handle raised up and hit him in the face. Harry was momentarily concerned, but Draco’s nose wasn’t bleeding and the boy looked only as if he was slightly smacked in the face, nothing more. Hannah, though, was in near tears when she saw what happened, finally cracking up when she caught Draco’s expression. But even the Slytherin boy could not maintain his ‘I-have-been-undignified-through-this-action’ face forever, as Hannah’s rather infectious laugh got to him. His salvation came from Madam Hooch, who pleaded the blonde girl to calm herself.

            “Now, I want you to mount your brooms, and grip them tight. You don’t want to fall of the end. Don’t worry, you will be safe.” she reassured the children, but some among them didn’t look much convinced. Neville seemed as pale as the Bloody Baron.

            “Have you all mounted your brooms?” asked the teacher.

            “Yes, Madam Hooch.” the whole class said in unison.

            “Now, I will ask to to push with your legs from the ground, hover for a while, then lean forward a bit and descend to the ground. On my whistle: three...two...one...” she blew her whistle from her chest.

            Only by the time she said ‘two’, Neville was already hovering. By the whistle blowing, he was rapidly gaining altitude, much to his horror. Neville was beginning to panic and whimper pitifully.

            “Mister... Mister Longbottom!” Madam Hooch intoned.

            “Ahhh!” he shouted as his broom violently shook him away from the group, going faster and faster forward and upwards. The whole class was shunted, still as statues. Harry had to be sure he wasn’t dreaming.

            “Come back down this instance!” Hooch shouted at Neville, but was barely heard through the boy’s screams, as the broom shook him left and right, up and down, and was still gaining distance and altitude. Harry could not believe this woman, who was just looking at Neville, instead of doing something. Whether or not she figured out that it wasn’t Neville that was controlling the broom, Harry wouldn’t find out, as he pushed as strongly as he could from the ground and started flying towards Neville, who was now halfway up the Astronomy Tower and gaining.

            “Mister Potter!” shouted madam Hooch angrily, but Harry was half a mind to kick her in the head as she flew past her. She, a teacher, stood there for more than half a minute and shouted at a boy who had no way of controlling his broom instead of actually _doing_ something about it.

            Harry felt the wind flew past him increasingly, as he gained speed and began approaching Neville, who was now screaming and shouting and almost at the top of the Astronomy Tower. It was so high up, that Harry dreaded to think...

            But the unthinkable happened. Neville’s broom rotated, and the boy slipped and began falling, just as Harry was about to reach him.

            Harry had no time to second guess his next decision, only hope to god that it worked. He jumped forward and down from his broom. He began falling a bit faster than Neville, propelled by his momentum. The feeling was indescribable, like every dream of falling Harry remembered. Only this was real, this was actually happening. Harry was freefalling, same as Neville, in the real world, with actual consequences if they hit the ground.

            After what it seemed like an eternity of a sinking feeling in his stomach, but in reality was just a few seconds, Harry managed to reach Neville and firmly grab the screaming boy by the hand. At that point, he reached up with his free hand, and concentrated on pulling all of his intent into one single thought:

            ‘ _Down!’_

            There was a swishing sound in the air, and after a couple more seconds of falling, Harry clasped in his left hand the handle of his broom and make it go slightly forward and up, culminating to an immediate stop of the two boys. Harry held a dangling Neville by his right hand, sweating and almost crushing the bones in order to hang on to him. He was afraid he might’ve hurt Neville’s shoulder when he promptly stopped the two of them, or even his own, but they just seemed to stop as if nothing ever happened. Which was weird, considering that a second ago they were falling because of gravity. Some kind of momentum when stopping that should’ve existed. But then Harry remembered inertia dampening spells and that brooms might have the spell applied to them.

            “Neville! You all right?” Harry shouted.

            “I-I d-don’t know!” the boy shouted between gasps and sobs.

            “It’s okay, you’re okay!” Harry assured him. “Listen! I am going to try and pull you up because I can’t hold on much longer! Grab the broom the second you can, okay?”

            Harry didn’t gave Neville a chance to say anything as he began half swinging, half pulling him towards the handle. Which required concentration, something that was not easy to come by with all the shouting Madam Hooch was doing at them.

            “SHUT UP!” Harry roared at her angrily, but he managed to finally bring Neville up enough for the boy to grab the broom handle, just as Harry thought he would slip from his grasp. His right hand hurt like hell, but it was easy enough to climb with two arms on the broom and then help Neville do the same. But Neville was in the front now and Harry had to hold on to him, instead of steering the broom.

            “H-Harry, I-I c-can’t do this, I-I can’t go down!” Neville started to panic again, the previous events on his broom still fresh in his mind.

            “No, it’s okay, you’re okay, see? Nothing is happening. The broom is staying still. You’re in control of it, Neville, not the other way around. Just breathe.” Harry said. “Breathe with me at the same time, okay? Just feel how I do it.” the boy ordered, trying to calm him.

            A few deep inhales and exhales in unison later, Neville was no longer shaking and quivering in fear. He calmed himself long enough to listen to Harry on how to lean forward and slowly descend. The timid boy stopped himself abruptly when the broom gained speed in descending and slightly pulled up. Harry had to hold himself from not falling back, but he reassured Neville that he was doing fine.

            But when they did, something slipped from Neville’s pocket and started going down. It was a red rectangle, with two golden lines on its back and tinted in the sun every time its front was upwards.

            Neville’s phablet was making its way to the ground, but Harry could not hope to reach it and he knew no spell that could stop it. But it seemed to have a mind of its own, as the device started to _slow down_ after a while, more and more as it neared the ground, finally going as slow as a feather before touching the grass unharmed on its back.

            Neville and Harry managed to descend after a tense minute, with Harry constantly letting the other boy know that he was okay. As they touched the ground with their feet, finally, their group of classmates ran towards them, shouting and cheering them. Neville’s legs almost gave out, but Harry was there to support him, even if he was begging to feel the adrenaline in his system dissipate.

            “Mister Potter, mister Longbottom, I cannot believe...!” shouted Madam Hooch at them as she approached the pair, ignoring the glare Harry was sending her, but she was interrupted by someone else.

            “Rolanda.” intoned Dumbledore as he walked down the grounds. “Maintain yourself.” he commanded, effectively shutting everyone up. Which was astonishing, seeing as he didn’t raise his voice or change it from his calm tone. “My office, now. Neville, Harry, please wait for your Heads of Houses, they will arrive shortly. Everyone else, please let the two of them breathe.” the Headmaster said, and everyone around Harry and Neville suddenly gave them a wide berth.            Hooch shot one last look at Harry and Neville and dutifully followed Dumbledore. Harry’s classmates wished them good luck and went back to their dorms. Hermione, Hannah and Draco stayed behind a bit, with Hannah congratulating them on their stunt and Hermione checking that they were okay. Draco maintained his distance, not sure exactly how to react. It was Hermione that handed Neville’s device back to the boy, reminding him to be more careful with his things in the future. Afterwards, they left, leaving Harry and Neville alone on the grass.

            “Harry, I’m so sorry about it. I lost control of the broom, I made you come after me and I dropped your tablet on the ground.” Neville muttered after a few minutes as they sat down waiting for McGonagall and Snape to arrive.

            “It was the broom that lost control, not you, Neville. And you didn’t _make_ me come after you that was something that I did. And the device is fine, look, not even a scratch!” Harry pointed out. Indeed, the phablet was undamaged in the slightest. Harry knew it was supposed to be durable, but surviving a fifty feet drop was still amazing.

            “But I – “Neville started.

            “Did nothing wrong, Nev.” Harry held the boy in a one arm hug with his good hand. “It was an accident, nothing you could’ve done.”

            “Thank you, Harry. You saved my life.” Neville said with an awed look in his eyes. Harry smiled at him, but before he could say anything, someone came over to them.

            “Yes, mister Potter does seem to display an unnecessarily heroic side.” drawled out Snape as he arrived with McGonagall in tow. He looked unaffected by the whole thing, while McGonagall had her mouth in a thin line and looked so angry she could’ve blown steam from her ears. Neville was immediately taken aback by the sight, but Harry was confident her anger wasn’t directed at the boys, but rather at the situation.

            “Mister Potter, thank you for saving Longbottom. Are the two of you alright?” McGonagall asked tightly.

            “My right arm hurts from pulling Neville up the broom, but other than that we’re fine.” answered Harry.

            “Longbottom?” Snape asked the boy for his statement. Harry would go to his grave swearing that there was concern in the Professor’s voice.

            “Yeah.” he said weakly, but quickly dressed his voice. “Yes, I’m fine.”

            “How delightful.” Snape raised an eyebrow. Really, what was his deal with dramatic intonations? “Now, if you would follow us to the Headmaster’s office.” he said, turning on his heels, as did McGonagall. Harry and Neville walked with them, each on the other side of the Head of their House. The walk was quiet. No one dared to say a word, mainly because McGonagall looked ready to jump down someone’s throat and scratch their eyes out. Harry thought she well might be capable of the last one, being able to turn into a cat and all.

            They arrived at the gargoyle, with Snape saying the password, and they climbed up the spiral stairs. There were shouts coming from inside the office as they reached the door. Harry had a faint idea who was making all the ruckus.

            “... completely irresponsible of them both, Dumbledore!” McGonagall opened the door to see Hooch standing up and pacing the office, while Dumbledore regarded her calmly.

            “Ah, Severus, Minerva.” the Headmaster interrupted the woman. “And the two flying boys.” he greeted them. “Are they alright?” he asked the other two adults in the room as Harry closed the door behind him and held Neville by the hem of his robes.

            “Potter might have overexerted himself, but no physical injuries of any kind.” Snape responded.

            “What I want to know,” intoned McGonagall dangerously, something that made Harry want to step back, “is how did it happen that he had to grab a falling mister Longbottom in the first place!”

            “Well, I was trying to...” Hooch started, but some adrenaline must’ve still been in Harry, because the next second he was shouting at the woman.

            “To do _what_ , exactly? You were just standing there!”

            “Mister Potter!” McGonagall chided Harry.

            “Let him speak, Minerva.” Dumbledore raised his hand, before motioning to Harry. “Go on, my boy.”

            “Thank you, Headmaster.” Harry thanked the man before turning his head to look at Hooch dead in the eye, with an angry expression. “Madam Hooch stood on the ground, for about _half a minute_ , watching as Neville was spinning out of control and just _shouted_ at him to stop!” he ranted.

            “I _was_ trying to tell the boy to stop!” Hooch defended herself.

            “As if he could!” Harry almost shouted.

            “Professors, “said Neville, barely audible, “I couldn’t control the broom. If it wasn’t for Harry...”

            “You would have been in no danger.” Hooch said over him. “The grounds of Hogwarts, including the Quidditch pitch, have a motion dampening spell placed upon them, to slow down an eventual fall of an object or a person, effectively stopping them from being hurt!” she recited. “Mister Potter’s actions were unfounded, as are his accusations. Mister Longbottom would have not been harmed in his fall in the slightest.”

            “The broom could have easily propelled him into the castle’s walls!” Harry reasoned, with good measure. “Or thrown him into a window, or fly over to outside the area of the spell and _then_ fall off! He was near the top of the Observatory in the Astronomy Tower, _over a hundred feet_ off the ground! His phone barely survived a fifty foot drop! And if Neville was even higher up when he fell? What then? Would the spell that begins to work at _forty feet_ above ground be enough if Neville fell from high enough for his drop to reach terminal velocity?”

            “I-I...” Hooch wanted to say, but could not find a rebuttal for what Harry said.

            “Potter’s surprising knowledge of physics at the age of eleven aside, “Snape spoke out of turn, “he is right. The spell, which I helped Flitwick place eight years ago, is meant for Quidditch pitch height, not higher. Which is a slight fault, but achieving that much was difficult enough for such a large area in the first place. I daresay Longbottom would’ve been in the Hospital Wing by now if not for Potter.” he continued.

            “But if Longbottom would have listened to...”

            “From that high?” Harry interrupted Hooch. “While panicking and screaming for dear life?”

            “I have the memory of the incident. The last part, at least, when Neville fell.” Dumbledore said out of the sudden. “It was why I came down in the first place. Harry, would you mind...”

            But Harry already knew what he was going to ask for. Seeing as he was the closest to the cabinet, he opened it and pushed the floating Pensive towards Dumbledore. The Headmaster already had his memory out, placing it in the water, then touched the basin with his wand.

            It was like viewing the world’s strangest television screen, Harry decided. He watched himself from a distance, from Dumbledore’s window, as he was flying to a distraught Neville, as muffled screams could be heard. It only lasted half a second, as Neville inevitably fell and Harry jumped after him. To see the scene that followed was truly an experience. In the five seconds that the boys were freefalling, Harry grabbed Neville, Dumbledore opened the window and pulled out his wand, and then before the Headmaster could do anything, Harry caught his broom, who came to him almost as if he conjured it. Then, Harry heard himself shout something as he swung Neville upwards until the other boy caught the broom handle, and then they were mounting the flying object. The scene ended there, presumably because Dumbledore already closed the window and he was on his way to the scene of the incident. Harry mentally thanked Dumbledore for at least having the decency to try and do something when Neville fell.

            “If he had just controlled the broom better...” Hooch was trying as all eyes turned to her, but Harry had finally had it.

            “ _Controlled the_... oh, for the love of god!” he marched angrily to the window, stomping all the way. McGonagall wanted to say something, but Dumbledore raised a finger to stop her, while watching Harry intently. Snape was just waiting patiently during the whole ordeal, while Neville looked pointedly away.

            Harry opened the window on the wall to the back of the Headmaster’s desk and looked to his right. There, directly in front of the Observatory was Neville’s broom. Harry reached with his hand, confident that he could do this, and called for it as strongly as he could. The broom immediately came to him, flying rapidly through the air. Harry clasped his hand around it, ignoring the way the object was shaking violently in his hand. He presented the broom to the rest of the people and placed it on the desk.

            “If the broom was at fault, a simple check would show it.” he said.

            “Should we call Flitwick?” asked McGonagall.

            “I think taking the two away from your classes was enough.” said Dumbledore, whipping his wand and casting some spells. The broom shook once more, before becoming still as stone. It did that for the duration of Dumbledore’s inspection, which lasted a full minute.

            “Yes, it seems that the broom in question is unstable and would try and shake off any who try and use it. Rolanda,” and this was the first time Harry heard Dumbledore’s tone change to dangerous levels, “it’s your job as flying instructor to check the brooms the first years use to learn how to fly. Care to tell me why this one was used in your class?” he regarded the woman.

            “Albus, I am so sorry, I didn’t know...” Hooch tried, once more, but Harry knew that she was done for.

            “It is not me who you should apologise to. And it was your duty to _know_. Because of your negligence, you placed two students in mortal peril, while you, as a teacher, should’ve acted _directly_ the minute the incident started. What you did borders on child endangerment, something that cannot be tolerated in my school. You are hereby dismissed from your position at Hogwarts, effective immediately.” Dumbledore declared.

            Hooch looked like she wanted to protest, but the threat of child endangerment hanged heavily over her head. She quickly left the room, nearly in tears, but Harry had zero compassion for her at the moment.

            “Well, if we are quite finished here,” noted a tired Dumbledore as he sat down, “I think you should all go back to your duties, while I search for a new flying instructor. Minerva, see that madam Hooch is packed by the end of the day.” he continued.

            “Yes, Headmaster.” McGonagall nodded.

            “Neville, I am sorry that you had to go through this ordeal.” Neville was shocked to be under the direct attention of the man. “I will see to it that it won’t happen again. Ten points to Gryffindor for being as brave as you were. Harry,” Dumbledore continued, smiling at the boy, “I am very proud of you. To stand before injustice and to risk yourself for another, I award you fifty points. And I recommend that you see madam Pomfrey, our school nurse, before you go back to your dorm for some well earned rest. Severus, show Harry the way, please. Good day to you all.”

            And with that, they were dismissed. Harry had the feeling Dumbledore had a charm or something in his office that made you feel like you had a surreal experience every time you left.

            “Potter, given your rather _exceptional_ prowess with a broom, “said Snape as the four of them walked the corridor, “I would be remiss if I didn’t... utilised your talent fully.” he remarked.

            That’s when McGonagall stopped in her tracks and looked fearfully at Snape. Which was odd to see, another teacher suddenly afraid of Snape. Neville and Harry shared a look as they all stopped to stare at McGonagall.

            “Severus, no.” she said in a small voice.

            “Are you negating me and my entire existence, Minerva, or...” Snape added sarcastically.

            “No, you can’t do this to me. Not like... _this_!” she accentuated, pointing at all of Harry, which made the boy frown.

            “Potter is good with a broom. Maybe it’s _genetic_.” Snape intoned.

            “You can’t do it.” McGonagall countered.

            “But I can. And I will.” Snape gave his sardonic smile. “Potter, you are to present yourself tomorrow in my office, after lunch. We will be joined by one Marcus Flint, Slytherin’s Quidditch Captain.” Snape intoned.

            “Wait. Professor Snape, you want me to try out for the Quidditch team?” Harry suddenly got it.

            “Of course I am. I expect you to do your very best, should you be accepted on the team. Now, come, I have to unleash madam Pomfrey on you.” Snape declared. “See you on the pitch, Minerva.” he added as they parted ways.

            “Sir, but I thought first years weren’t allowed on the team.” Harry told the man as they walked to the fifth floor through the Grand Staircase.

            “Because normally first years cannot fly very well, as you might imagine. I already paid you a compliment today, Potter, I cannot do another one in such a short time.” Snape said evenly as they were walking to the Hospital Wing.

            “Right, sorry sir. And I thank you for the compliment from before.”

            “You are welcome. Here we are.” Snape said simply. “Be careful around the Infirmary, there have been cases of dragon pox.” the man warned him, with a grimace.

            “I will, thank you.” Harry stated.

            “I’ll see you in class. Try not to get into anymore trouble.” Snape regarded Harry, before turning back, retracing their previous path.

            “Thanks, Sev.” Harry said out loud to the man.

            “No nicknames, Potter.” Snape said loudly, without turning to look at Harry, as he walked out of the corridor. Harry gave a hearty laugh as he entered the Infirmary.

            Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was a kind lady, but focused on her job, as one would expect out of a medi-witch. She carefully steered Harry away from the beds that were close off by drapes, saying that she didn’t want the boy to catch dragon pox as well. She answered every question the boy had while examining the boy’s arm with something that looked like a big magnifying glass that hovered in the air and was attached with a cord to a computer screen.  Harry turned to see the screen showing his bone, then his nerves, then his muscles, then finally his skin.

            “Well, you strained your muscles, but not other damage. Apply this,” madam Pomfrey said, typing something on her keyboard and then a small, circular, metal box came flying from a room that was full of medicine, “two times in an hour and you should be just fine.” she smiled at Harry.

            “Okay, I have to say that this is so wicked!” Harry gasped. “Was that a real time MRI like machine? And how did you make the ointment fly over here just by typing on a computer?” Harry asked, curious beyond belief.

            “Yes, it is, although it’s more like an MRI and X-ray scanner all in one. And the medicine cabinet has some complicated spell Flitwick made to respond to the electronic commands my computer gives, I don’t know the exact specifics, I’m afraid.” madam Pomfrey explained. “Now, off you go!” she playfully shooed Harry away, who complied her dismissal on autopilot. He was so deep in thought, trying to figure out how Flitwick managed to incorporate the signals a computer would send in a floating spell.

            He walked down to his dorm, now terribly tired because of the whole ordeal. He checked on Neville again and entered the common room. Draco, of course was waiting for him on one of the couches, reading from his phone. He immediately raised his look to see Harry and jumped to him in an instant.

            “Draco, not now, I’m too tired.” sighed Harry, wanting nothing more than to crash in his bed, but the blond boy was not to be deterred.

            “Where were you? I heard rumours that Hooch was sacked and you were sent to the Hospital Wing!” he started demanding.

            “Hooch was fired and I was in the Hospital Wing for a check-up, but I am fine. Now, if you don’t mind...” Harry started to walk to the staircase, but Draco was right on his heels.

            “What happened out there? Why did Longbottom fell off his broom? Why did you go after him?” he continued to ask.

            “Draco!” Harry shouted at the boy, drawing the attention from the other students around them. “Please, I am tired and I want to get some rest. I’ll talk to you later.” Harry sighed and made one final attempt to go to his bed, leaving Draco behind him.

            “Seems only fat arsed Squibs are more interesting to you.” Draco muttered under his breath, but the green eyed boy heard him and stopped in his tracks.

            Harry saw red.

            He turned around and grabbed Draco by his robes and put his back to the wall hard, faster then the other boy could process. Harry was looking the scared blond in the eye, with a fury that would send Snape running.

            “WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?” Harry shouted in his face. The other students were now all watching them, but made no motion to intervene. Even the two Prefects that were in the room with them stood by at watched. “Do you hear yourself, sometimes? How hateful and pathetic you sound when you talk like that? Neville could’ve died today, and you... Gah!” Harry shouted and let go of a very scared Draco.

            “H-Harry...” Draco tried.

            “No! I am done with this, I am done trying to be your friend if you won’t try and grow the bloody hell up!” Harry shouted over him. “You are a prejudiced git, and until you change that, I don’t want to see, talk, or be near you.” Harry intoned and promptly left the boy and the other people behind.

            Harry went to his bed, locking his trunk and closing the drapes on his bed. He didn’t want to be disturbed ever again.

            His last words to Draco were played over and over in his head, like he was taunting himself for being hurtful towards the other boy. But Draco was more than cruel towards Neville, and Harry couldn’t forgive that right now. He applied the ointment on his arm, waited another hour all alone in his dorm room while playing on his phone and applied it again, before going to sleep.

            Harry woke up sometime at two thirty in the morning, all of the sudden. It was like he blinked and in an instant the whole day passed. His stomach was grumbling, having missed dinner. He had a bunch of messages and missed calls from his friends and family that he will have to deal with later. Hermione sent him a dozen messages, Hannah was almost threatening to bust down the door to the Slytherin Common Room to check on him (something Harry didn’t doubt she could achieve, given sufficient time) and Neville had sent only one text, saying that he will find a way to repay him.

            The dorm was quiet, safe for a few light snores coming from his dorm mates. Harry wanted to go back to sleep and forget about the guilt he was feeling for the occupant of the bed to his left for now. But he was nowhere near tired, he was actually feeling _refreshed_. Clearly, he had a much rapid recuperation time than he thought. And his stomach wouldn’t stop complaining about the lack of food.

            He turned around in his bed for about ten minutes, trying to count sheep or ways he could apologise for his outburst earlier. Resigned to his fate, Harry put on his shoes and quietly made his way to the Common Room entrance, making sure no one was alerted by his presence. In the Common Room there were a couple of other people, but they were either asleep on top of their homework or barely awake enough to read a book for Transfiguration, so Harry slipped by them quite easily. Harry’s plan was to make his way to the kitchens and grab some food. He mentally slapped himself for not having something to munch on in times like these, making a note to change that in the future. He had a faint idea where his destination was. The guide didn’t say where the kitchen was, but Harry supposed it would have to be somewhere students wouldn’t normally end up, as to not disturb the people who worked there. Judging by the fact that food appeared on their platter every meal in the Great Hall by seemingly appearing out of them, Harry theorised the kitchen had to be somewhere beneath the Hall in order for that to happen. It was a long shot, true, but if he wasn’t right he had all night to explore the castle and he had no classes in the morning. If he didn’t find the kitchen, he hoped the search for it would tire him enough so that he could go back to sleep. If Filch didn’t get to him first, that is.

            As he opened the door and stepped out, he suddenly stumbled and fell down, having tripped on something big. He fell down with an ‘oomph’, as several sounds around him erupted. There was a lot of movement and Harry was most confused, and he couldn’t see properly in the dark.

            “Ow – move, you’re sitting on my shoulder!”

            “You’re on top of me, not the other way around!”

            “Ouch – scoot over! Who – “

            But Harry had enough suspense. He quickly retracted from the amalgam of people and stood up, careful to not step on anyone. As the rustling and complaints continued, Harry whispered _Lumos_ and a small ball of light appeared in his hands, illuminating the hallway.

            Neville, Hannah and Hermione were all trying to stand up and face him. They were all in their night wear and were in various states of chaos. Hermione’s bushy hair was now wild and untamed, half of Neville’s hair was sticking up and Hannah’s ponytail was almost undone, not to mention the dishevelled way their clothes looked.

            “What are you guys doing here?” Harry asked in a whisper.

            “Well, since you missed dinner...” Hermione started, but it was too close to her normal tone, so Harry had to abruptly stop her, by waving his hands in his direction, making the light from his spell go wildly across their faces. He then made some hand gestures to imitate a big flying animal, and pointed somewhere down the hall from them, to his left and the right of the Common Room entrance.

            Through a sheer miracle they managed to understand that Harry was trying to imitate an overgrown bat, namely Snape, and hurried out of the dungeons and into an empty classroom on the ground floor.

            As Harry checked for Filch, his cat and that pesky poltergeist Peeves, he closed the door behind him and finally regarded his friends. He noticed they had with them sleeping bags and Hannah and Hermione had their backpacks.

            “Okay, now you can tell me what you were doing, camping at two in the morning outside of the Slytherin Common Room, several feet from Snape, I might add!” Harry chided them.

            “We thought you might be hungry, seeing as you didn’t came to dinner with Draco.” Neville said.

            Harry was momentarily floored as Hannah opened her bag and suddenly got out numerous packages with food and sweets, much more than she would be able to fill in normally, and placed them on a table next to them.

            “You didn’t have to go through all of that trouble just for me.” Harry said, but his stomach disagreed with him, as the sight of food made it rumble.

            “Come on, sit with us and eat.” ordered Hermione.

            They all drew chairs to the small table and began opening the packages Hannah brought. She actually procured cutlery for them to use, although it was made of plastic.

            “Thank you guys so much!” Harry declared, munching down on the surprisingly still warm chips.

            “You are welcome, Harry.” laughed Hannah as she nibbled on a sandwich.

            “How did you manage it? To get so much food, I mean.” Harry asked.

            “Well,” started Hermione, “when you didn’t show up to dinner last night and we didn’t hear from you, we thought you would go hungry when you woke up. So after everyone went to bed and still no sign from you, we camped out on with food, waiting for when you would show up. I came up with the idea, Hannah showed us to the kitchens and Neville was the one who led us to the Slytherin Common Room.” the girl explained.

            “Wait, let me get this straight.” Harry chuckled. “ _You_ , voluntarily suggested you break curfew and go _outside_ of the rules?”

            “Well, I thought in this case our actions could be excused, seeing as you saved Neville’s life and didn’t even get a meal afterwards.” Hermione shrugged.

            “Thank you for that, by the way.” Neville smiled at Harry.

            “Anytime, Nev.” Harry draped an arm around the other boy.

            “That was terrifying to see. Wicked cool, but terrifying.” Hannah added. “What broom is so faulty that it will shake anyone who tries to mount it?”

            “Don’t remind me.” Neville muttered.

            “No, I’m serious!” the girl continued, taking a tart. “My aunt Bedelia works at the Office of Magical Transportation in the Ministry, specifically with brooms. Honestly, it’s all she talks about _all the time_ , but she never said once anything about brooms so damaged that they shake off any who try and use it!”

            “What are you implying?” asked a concerned Harry.

            “What if someone tampered with it? Made go wild?” the girl continued.

            “That’s silly.” Hermione rebutted, putting the cap on a bottle of water that she was drinking. “There is no way a student would be able to mess with the enchantments a broomstick has to that degree, and I doubt any of the Professors would do that, even Hooch. And, I mean, why would someone want to hurt Neville? And how would they make sure Neville got the exact cursed broom in the first place?”

            But Harry and Neville suddenly shared a look between themselves, full of worry. But this was something that was not overlooked by the girls.

            “What was that?” Hannah raised an eyebrow.

            “What was what?” asked Harry and Neville at the same time.

            “That look you two just had a moment ago! Spill!” she demanded.

            Harry took one last contemplative look at Neville, before regarding the girls.

            “I don’t think the faulty broom was meant for Neville. I think it was meant for me.” Harry declared, earning him two simultaneous ‘Huhs’ from the other two. “Look, when we first got to the broom shed, I was one of the first who got one. But I gave that one to Neville, I didn’t even think...”

            “No one is blaming you, Harry.” Neville reassured him.

            “They better not be, I strained a muscle pulling you up!” he laughed with the others. “No, but seriously, I think someone wanted to make sure I got hurt, not Neville, seeing as that was the broom I originally picked. I forgot all about it up until now...”

            “Yes, but how?” Hermione reminded them. “How could someone who charmed it make sure you got it yourself in the first place? It’s a shoddy plan to begin with!”

            “Maybe they are not that clever.” Hannah shrugged. “Maybe it was a student after all and they didn’t think it through.”

            “Or maybe we aren’t.” Neville said quietly, before continuing much louder, now that all of the occupants of the table were looking at him. “Thinking it through, I mean. We all know Harry is who he is, he is bound to have people against him in the castle. It’s not implausible that someone would like to hurt him, and Flying Class was the perfect opportunity. First years don’t have brooms of their own, we use the school one, to which everyone has access to, and so placing a curse on them would be easy. But they still had no way of knowing which broom Harry would get, “he continued when he saw Hermione open her mouth, “so I think whoever did it had an actual plan.”

            “Well, it couldn’t have been that _all_ the brooms were tampered with, otherwise everyone would have been thrown off, not just you.” Harry countered.

            “Which is... okay, hear me out, and tell me if I’m being stupid...” Neville drew breath. “Would it be possible that whoever did this made sure that whichever broom Harry touched first would be the one cursed?”

            That got some reactions out of the rest of the people at the table. Hannah was looking thoughtfully at her second sandwich, while Hermione looked into space, frowning. Harry was just staring at Neville like he was seeing him for the first time. The boy really should let his intelligence shine out more often. The black haired boy doubted he would’ve reached the same conclusion as fast as Neville did.

            “It’s... _possible._ ” Hermione nodded slowly, turning her attention to Neville a second later. “Someone could’ve cursed Harry to make the broom he picks first go haywire. But then why go through all that trouble instead of actually hurting Harry, no offense – “

            “None taken.” Harry shrugged, amused.

            “– When they could just as easily throw a spell at him?” Hermione continued.

            “Too open, maybe. And logic sometimes avoids wizards and witched like the plague, so an overly complicated plan to hurt me is not out of the question.” Harry pondered.

            “Then we can guess no one placed the spell on Harry himself. But then what...” Hermione started, but was interrupted.

            “Barratt’s Trap.” Hannah said out of the sudden, looking more shocked than everyone that she spoke.

            “The... what now?” Harry asked, voicing Hermione and Neville’s thoughts.

            “Trigon Barratt’s Magical Entrapment Curse. I found out about it when I was sucked down on a Witchypedia portal of endlessly clicking random articles. Do you ever get that?” Hannah asked, going off on a tangent.

            “Yeah.” all of the other three said, urging her to go on.

            “Anyway, it’s this curse that Barratt made that enacts a spell of a specific nature to be enacted after a series of predetermined steps. Say, if you had a treasure and you wanted to protect it, you use Barratt’s Trap so that someone touches it without your permission they get some punishment you decided on beforehand, but you don’t actually curse the objects themselves.”

            “The room.” Harry concluded. “The room had the curse at first, it just went into the broom when I touched it.”

            “Yeah, I mean, it’s not a terribly obscure piece of magic, just more complicated to perform. At least I think it’s a plausible theory.” Hannah shrugged.

            “I think it’s the only possible way it could’ve happened.” added Hermione. “Place the curse on the broom shed and make it so that anyone who tries to use a broom from there gets in trouble. But making it keyed to Harry only, that’s the hard part. Send me the link through VTrunk if you can find it, Hannah, I need to check it to see...”

            “I don’t think we should do that. Send _that_ link through VTrunk, I mean. Draco might see it.” Harry countered.

            “So? It’s not like he would get why we sent it, just that we did.” said Neville.

            “I... got into a fight with him after the incident.” Harry responded, not looking at his friends. “He was his usual self, always asking questions, always badgering me to answer them and I was tired and I didn’t want to deal with that. Apparently, that got on his nerves, he insulted Neville and then I...”

            He finally raised his eyes to see his friends stare at him in anticipation.

            “I practically tore him a new one, saying that until he grew up I didn’t want anything to do with him.” Harry sighed.

            “Well, thank you for defending me when I wasn’t there to defend myself, Harry,” Neville started, “but I still think you did the right thing. He was getting intense these past few days, and you know everything you say gets back to his father.”

            “I shouldn’t have done it.” Harry breathed. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper with him like that. And I don’t think that he wanted to report that one back to Lucius, I think he was actually concerned with what happened and didn’t know how to show it. You didn’t see his face, he was so scared of me...” Harry drifted off, full of remorse.

            “Well, you _can_ be quite scary.” Neville added. “You are usually this polite and intelligent person, but when you get angry... I swear, I thought Hooch would be swallowed by the ground whole!”

            “I was tempted.” Harry muttered darkly.

            “You just get this look when you’re angry that even Snape would run from.” Hannah laughed. Harry didn’t tell her how close she was to the truth, resigning to tell the girls that story later on.

            “What should we do with Draco?” Hermione changed subjects.

            “I don’t know. He has been a friend, albeit a suspicious one, but he never hurt me. I did. I don’t know how he will forgive me for it.” Harry looked at a window, from which moonlight shone in.

            “Then I suggest you give him time. Let’s face it, he has more to apologising to do than you, so when he does it you can decide then.” Hermione cleverly suggested.

            “Can you imagine Draco Malfoy going to someone of his own free will and actually say he’s _sorry_?” Harry laughed in spite of himself.

            “But that’s the point, isn’t it? To see if he is actually mature enough to ask for genuine forgiveness.” she continued.

            “Maybe, I don’t know right now.” Harry sighed for the second time. “Anyway, back to Barratt’s Trap, I will let Dumbledore know and see if something can be done. If it’s true, then someone at Hogwarts tried to attack me and ended up targeting Neville.”

            “But don’t you think that it will make Dumbledore bring Hooch back, if it’s proven that someone tampered with the brooms?” Hannah countered.

            “No.” Harry added after a moment of thought. “No, while it wasn’t her fault that the broom was _temperamental_ , she still could’ve performed a check on them prior to us mounting them and she still didn’t do anything to stop Neville from falling.”

            “Well, that’s that. Everybody ate something? Harry, you good?” Hannah asked, receiving nods from everyone, and then proceeded to clean up their table. Hermione put all of their sleeping bags into her own backpack, which Harry suspected was charmed to fit more than it normally should.

            “You never said where the kitchen was or how to get there.” Harry remembered as he helped Hannah.

            “Ah, yes. It’s near by the Hufflepuff dorms, behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. You tickle the pear and it turns into a doorknob.” she divulged as she packed up the remaining tarts, gave them to Harry for him to hold and put everything else in a plastic bag, before whispering _Scourgify_ and cleaning the table itself.

            “Clever.” Harry remarked. “Did you have to steal this, or...”

            “Oh, no, not at all!” Hermione piped it. “The workers there were more than happy to give us some food.”

            “You’ll never see house elves upset to do more work.” Neville chuckled.

            Harry wanted to slap himself silly.

            “Of _freaking_ course Hogwarts has house elves! It’s an enormous castle, cleaning it up couldn’t be only up to Filch and someone has to make three meals a day! Why didn’t I think of that earlier?” he ranted, rather disappointed with himself.

            “It’s not like it’s mentioned anywhere you might’ve seen if you didn’t look for it intently. And there is no mention of Hogwarts official page or the Witchypedia article. It’s just kinda... assumed.” Hermione explained.

            “Well, at least they are treated better than by some wizarding families.” Hannah said as she opened the door and Neville led the way.

            “Let’s get you guys to your dorms. Nev first.” Harry decided.

            “They still refuse payment for their services and nearly work themselves to exhaustion.” Hermione muttered.

            “The elves?” Harry whispered over his shoulder as they began climbing the stairs, careful not to be discovered by Filch.

            “Yes, them. I feel weird now that I know my food is made by people barely considered slightly above slaves.” she whispered back.

            “Hermione, elves chose this life in the first place, if you remember. They literally _had_ to be bonded to wizards or else they would die, they need the magic a wizard or witch has to survive.” Hannah reminded her.

            “That’s the story we like to tell ourselves.” Hermione said, undeterred.

            “It’s the story they tell. Just ask them. Helga Hufflepuff was the first witch to have agreed to their service in the first place, I have a ton of books on elven history in my library, if you’re interested...”

            But before Hermione could agree to that, something happened. As the four of them were climbing up to the seventh floor, the staircase under them _moved_ on its own, like it usually did. It was a pain, sure, to have your path to a classroom or god forbid a bathroom suddenly shift, but it was also practical, as it opened up another path to another place in the castle much easier. Now though it seemed like it was only designed to create more trouble for them, as this would inevitably make them deviate from their path.

            “Of all the – “Hannah started too loudly, but Harry shushed her immediately. It would not do to have someone catch them so late out of beds.

            “Remind me to look up a spell that decides if the stairs move and in which direction.” Harry sighed as they came to a stop. As he looked up he could see five other stairs move in time with theirs. In a fleeting moment, he saw something in the corner of his right eye. There was a light source coming closer and closer to the entrance to one of the corridors, a floor above them. Followed by that was a faint but sure grumbling and footsteps from someone with a limp.

            “Crap!” Harry whispered, horrified. “Filch is coming! Quick, let’s go!” he urged his friends to go forward through the door in front of them. They ended on a dark, smelly corridor as they tried to run without making much noise. Harry couldn’t determine if the path ahead would end up somewhere, and going towards the other side would mean going back by the entrance, and Harry had a suspicion Filch was aware someone was on the staircase earlier. He quickly looked around for somewhere to hide and was relieved to find a sturdy looking wooden door. He raced to it and tried to open it several times, to no avail. Harry looked back to see the same light source as earlier approach the corridor.

            “Move over!” cried Hermione. “ _Alohomora_.” she said, pointing the tips of her fingers at the lock, which suddenly clicked. Harry rushed them all inside and close the door behind him as quietly as he could.

            “Standard Book of Spells, chapter seven?” Hannah asked, regaining her voice.

            “Yeah. Bloody hell, that was close.” Hermione sighed, closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead.

            “Did you just _swore_ – “Hannah started.

            “ _Shhh_!” Harry quieted her. He placed his ear to the door, waiting for something to happen, hoping against hope that Filch won’t come looking for them in here. But it seemed that the caretaker went away, and after a few tense seconds, Harry could hear another door down the corridor being opened and closed, as Filch went somewhere else.

            “He’s gone.” Harry declared, remembering how to breathe.

            “Anyone else get the feeling we’re not supposed to be here? Like, _really_ not supposed to.” Hannah shivered, looking around on the room, before settling her eyes on Neville, who was looking at something in the dark.

            “Neville, you ok?” she asked worriedly.

            Harry and Hermione turned around. Neville wasn’t moving or saying anything, just blankly staring at the wall on the opposite side of the door.

            As Harry’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw on the floor something like a trap door with a rusty metal handle. But standing on it was something huge and with _claws_. Before they could say anything, there was a rustling sound and something heavy moved. Then a yawn, amplified dozens of times in sound.

            That’s when they saw it: the head of a very large dog, waking up from its slumber. But it wasn’t alone. Two more equally large and almost identical heads were right next to it, looking more and more ferocious by the moment. The beast began to growl dangerously. Neville somehow found the courage to wake up from his dazed stupor and walk backwards to the entrance. Harry made a move as well, trying not to raise the ire of the giant dog further. It was a tense couple of seconds, as Neville, Hannah and Hermione made their way next to Harry, who slowly opened the door. The dog was apparently still sleepy enough that it didn’t attack them immediately. That, and the fact that the intruders were all slowly retreating from its territory.

            “Everybody maintain eye contact and slowly get out.” Harry commanded.

            They all followed Harry, not daring to lose sight of the dog, as if doing so would cause it to attack. Moment after moment, the growls were gaining intensity, as Hermione exited, followed closely by Hannah. Neville was barely breathing as he walked backwards. But then he tripped and fell on the blonde girl, much to everybody’s surprise. But it was the action that sent the beast finally crazy.           

            The dog barked furiously, from all three heads at different times, causing a ruckus that would wake up the whole castle soon enough. In the span of a second, it tried to lunge at them. Hermione couldn’t stop the small frightened noise that escaped her lips, Hannah and Neville were barely halfway done with scrambling to get up and Harry barely had a moment’s notice to turn to the three headed dog.

            Harry, full of terror, instinctively shot out his arm at the beast. He thought of no spell, whispered no words, but all he wanted in that very moment was for the dog to be as far away from his friends.

            At the very last moment, there was a sound of wind blowing through a tunnel and a very small _boom_ as the dog was suddenly thrown back by an invisible, powerful force, back in its place. Harry felt the magic in him come alive, as if something had been clicked on inside of him. He knew somehow that he could do this, he had done it before.

            Apparently now with newfound tactics, Harry used his other hand to push Neville and Hannah out of the doorway, who were so amazed by what happened they were standing still, watching in awe. They found themselves being slightly moved backwards, stumbling over each other but not falling again. Harry quickly ran out of the room and whipped his hand in the air with a grunt, almost like throwing something on the side, somehow forcefully closing and locking the door to the beast, as it reared for another attack.

            “Oh my god.” whispered a horrified Hermione. “How...”

            But on top of the violent barks and scratching on the door in front of them, someone was opening the one to their right. Filch apparently heard the noise they were making and was a few milliseconds away from getting them expelled.

            Harry quickly decided two life threatening situations in one day was enough, so he pointed his hand at the door and flicked his wrist in one sharp movement, abruptly closing the door in Filch’s face. Quite literally, it seemed, as the caretaker groaned loudly in pain and then something fell down.

            The four of them spared no time in running for their lives, still experiencing the after shock of having a giant beast lunge at them. They made their way on the seventh floor corridor, crossing the stairs who had the decency to stay put this time. They were walking rapidly by a tapestry depicting trolls in tutus when on the opposite side, a doorway suddenly made its appearance out of thin air, which Harry was immensely grateful for, seeing as he was racking his mind, desperate for a place to hide.

            They all went inside what appeared to be an elegant sitting room. Harry and his friends finally had time to catch their breaths, as they sat down on a couch, or in armchairs in Harry and Neville’s case.

            “Holy Merlin, we were so close to being dead!” Hannah remarked after a minute, still frightened.

            “Or worse, expelled.” Hermione rasped.

            “What the bloody hell was Dumbledore thinking, letting a thing like that in the school?!” Hannah responded, looking furious. “It would’ve tore us to pieces! Who lets something like that in the castle? Without warning!” she ranted.

            “We were warned.” Harry countered. “Dumbledore said it at the beginning of the term: ‘For those who do not wish to die a painful death.’” he remembered.

            “Third floor corridor. We were on the third floor corridor.” Hermione realised.

            “Yes, exactly.” Harry nodded thoughtfully.

            “Still, what was it doing there?” Hannah asked.

            “It was guarding something.” Neville spoke.

            “Guarding something?” Hannah and Hermione said at the same time, noting that Harry didn’t seem so surprised.

            “There was a trap door under his paw. There must be something in there.” Neville continued.

            “And what would be so bloody important that you need a damn _Cerberus_ to protect it?” Hannah clicked her tongue in annoyance.

            “Whatever was in vault 713 in Gringotts.” Harry suddenly realised.

            Of course that’s what it was! Something gets taken out of Gringotts at Dumbledore’s request, presumably to hide it in Hogwarts, and then they are told there is an area in the school suddenly forbidden for the general population? Harry wanted to shout in frustration at his inability to put the two together earlier. He looked at his friends to see that they were waiting anxiously for him to finish.

            “Right, sorry. When Hagrid first took me to buy my things in Diagon Alley, he first took me to Gringotts to claim my trust vault, left by my parents. After that, we went deeper in the cavern, to vault 713, from where he took something in a pouch, no bigger than a fist. He said it was Hogwarts business and that I shouldn’t say anything about it. He had a letter with him that he presented to Chief-Manager Ragnok, which I bet was from Dumbledore.”

            “And you never thought to mention it after that article of the break-in?” Hermione practically shouted.

            “I wasn’t sure if I was right. Besides, I wasn’t supposed to know and Draco was constantly glued to my side every second. And sending a text would’ve been risky.” Harry reasoned.

            “So, you think that whatever was in Gringotts in vault 713 is now in Hogwarts? Beyond that trapdoor the dog was guarding?” Neville asked.

            “What else could it be?” Harry countered.

            “But what _is_ the package Hagrid retrieved? What requires a three headed dog as a guard?” Hermione demanded to know.

            “Hagrid never told me what it was. But it’s obviously important. Dumbledore wanted it moved from Gringotts, someone broke in the bank to steal it and now there is a Cerberus standing over it. Whatever it is, a lot of people want it.” Harry concluded. “I don’t know, I am just tired right now.”

            “How _did_ you manage to throw back the beast and then close the door on its face?” Neville thought to ask. “Never mind pushing Hannah and I back and knocking Filch on his back?” Neville turned to Harry.

            “I... don’t know. I didn’t use any spells, I didn’t even think. I just did it.” Harry shrugged.

            “Do you make it a mission to save someone’s life everyday? Twice, in Neville’s case, but we already know you have a soft spot for him.” Hannah chuckled.

            “Do you have a complaint?” Harry raised an eyebrow with a half smile.

            “By all means, Potter.” she raised her hands. “Continue to save others, if that’s your thing. And thank you, by the way.”

            “It was still amazing, Harry.” Hermione felt the need to reassure the boy, frowning at Hannah. “Do you think you could try it again and see if it will happen?”

            “Maybe later. I’m exhausted right now.” Harry closed his eyes for a bit and felt Neville pat his arms several times and whisper thanks.

            “We should head back in our dorms, its getting late as it is, and I don’t want to face Filch a third time.” Hermione looked at her phone, checking the time.

            “I would rather get eaten by the Cerberus.” Hannah noted without humour, as they all got up.

            “Seconded.” muttered Harry so that only Neville could hear him. “Say, what do you think this room is supposed to be?” he asked his friends, looking around. There were purple drapes all over the wallpapered walls, with columns displayed evenly on every wall. Looking now at the furniture, the couch, the armchairs and the loveseat were looking like they came from the Victorian age, all purple silk and complicated, golden rims. There was a celling lamp above them, a large sphere that casted a low light.

            “Helpful.” Hannah remarked.

            “Maybe. I wish it had like a window or something, so that we could get some air in here...” Hermione wanted to say, but the appearance of a metal frame with numerous squares with glasses on the opposite of the room had shut her up.

            “Did you just _wish_ a window into existence?” Hannah gasped.

            “It’s the room. I wanted a place to hide and it appeared, so when Hermione wished for windows, she got them.” Harry realised.

            “Ohohohoho.... I am _so_ using this in the future!” Hannah looked positively giddy.

            “We’ll come by later today, I promise.” Harry decided, leading them all out the door.

            As he dropped Neville by the Gryffindor Tower, split up with Hermione at the junction leading to the sixth floor and parted ways with Hannah near the dungeons, Harry made his way back in to his bed, beyond tired of the day’s events. When he set out to at least tire himself in a stroll around the castle, he didn’t imagine...well, _this_.

            He now knew where the object from the vault was hidden. But what it was and how was it important, those still remained a mystery to him. And he was in no hurry to get past the three headed dog to find out, _no sir_! There were other ways, other methods he could pursue. Hagrid would be an option, and if that didn’t work out he had the entire wizarding Internet to peruse at his disposal. Between classes only, of course. Well, except History.

            Harry went back into his bed, thankfully without Filch, or worse, _Snape_ , catching him. He supposed to be at the very least proud of himself for following Snape’s rules to their entirety. He didn’t get caught, after all.

            But one thing still nagged at him, namely Draco. He looked over to the blond boy’s bed and felt a pit in his stomach. He didn’t mean to shout at him and losing his temper was not an excuse. He should’ve apologised then and there.

            Harry was beginning to worry it would already be too late.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me. Please.  
> This is part of Draco's story, that will develop as time goes on. He and Harry are just on a break right now. And I wanted to show that even when you are sure of something, things can intervene, people can snap and tears will flow. But it will all turn out right, I promise.  
> You might be wondering why I got rid of Hooch. Well, the above reasons, for one (the ones in the story, I mean) and because I have a plan.   
> I am also up to date with my chapters, meaning I haven't finished the one for next week yet. I am trying to do that, but because of work and school stuff I may not be able to do so right now. Not to worry, I am not even remotely done with this story, I barely scratched the surface.


	8. The Troll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a new Flying Instructor at Hogwarts, and something goes amiss during Halloween.

 

            The following weeks were strange for Harry, to put it mildly. He asked Dumbledore if it was possible that someone used Barratt’s Trap on the broomstick shed, to which the Headmaster replied that something _was_ actually casted on it, after a check, but could not determine what or who did it.

            That worried Harry, because whoever tried to hurt him was clever enough to evade Dumbledore. There was someone in the school that wanted him hurt or dead, and no one could figure out who it was. His classmates seemed content to leave him be, with the occasional star-eyed fan coming up to him. Harry quickly put an end to that, disclosing that he was just a normal kid. Of course, no one wanted to listen, his friends even less so, having witnessed Harry use powerful, nonverbal magic without so much as a thought.

            Harry thought it was just accidental magic. Only, he had done it on purpose during the Night of the Beast, as he called it, and then he could do it whenever he wanted. He guessed it was telekinesis, fuelled by magic, but there was no account of anyone using it so much without draining themselves, so he couldn’t be sure that’s what it was. It was useful, truthfully, having this ability at his fingertips, somehow combing Flying Charms and Summoning Charms into sheer will.

            He met with Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Quidditch Captain, at Snape’s request, the day after the broom incident. Marcus was tall and built, with a permanent bitch-face expression plastered on his face, but he was polite enough to Harry and gave him a chance to show his broom flying. To say he was pleased was an understatement. Flint immediately pleaded Snape for Harry to have his own broom, an interaction that still made Harry laugh himself silly. Snape just regarded the almost begging Flint with a raised eyebrow and a tired expression, after which he conceded that he had already made an order for a Firebolt 12. Harry offered to pay for at least half of it, instead of placing all of the weight of the money on Snape or the school. The Professor said he expected nothing less.

            The Firebolt 12 was the fastest broom on the market, specifically aimed at Quidditch professionals. Harry guessed that either Snape wanted only the best for his team or that he was paying another sleight-of-hand compliment. Or both. Harry had a fun time training with it. It was a secret, of course, him being the newest Seeker for the Slytherin team. No one was supposed to know, not even his friends. Harry had a hard time keeping it from them, but he promised he had a surprise waiting for them, so that they won’t suspect too much.

            And then there was the matter of Draco, whom Harry still wasn’t speaking with. Or the other way around. His House didn’t seem to want to intervene in whatever was that sparked the fight between the two, meaning that everybody ignored it happening. His dorm mates were still speaking with him and so did the few other older students that Harry interacted with. But nobody even seemed to mention Draco in his presence or acknowledge that they knew the other boy. It was as if he didn’t even exist. It was the same the other way around; what few conversations Harry managed to overhear between Draco and their House mates didn’t even mention him.

            Harry wanted to apologise for what he said, truly, but what Draco said was way worse, and more hurtful. If he made the move first, Draco would gain the upper hand in this situation, seeing that he would receive no repercussions for his actions. No, no matter how much Harry wanted to mend it, Draco had to make the first move, seeing as he made the first offence.

            So it was decidedly strange whenever they were in the same room together, which was everyday. They had classes together, they slept in the same room and they had meals not that far from each other. The only time when they weren’t together was when Harry and his friends were in the mysterious room they found on the seventh floor.

            They quickly made that room their hangout point after the incident with the Cerberus. They would get together there in their free periods to study. The library was no longer a viable option, and this was secluded enough that no one bothered them or made them speak quieter. They had no intention of divulging the existence of the room to others anytime soon, so they were careful to not let anyone see when they entered it. Harry ordered three small cameras that he placed on the tapestry with the troll ballerinas, and on the two entrances to the corridor, which sent a live feed to his phablet and his laptop. Should anyone be near the corridor, the camera would pick them up. Hermione was slightly against the idea, noting that it was unethical to spy on people. Harry pointed out that Dumbledore had paintings, ghosts and who knows what else oversee the castle, but it only sparked more arguments, so the girl dropped the matter for now.

            Neville was the one who completely understood the room, making it bend to his will. He was the one who requested it to change, wording it carefully so that no one they didn’t approve could enter or see it. He usually let Trevor inside the room, so that they didn’t have to request it every time, just enter it.

            Harry was proud of him for coming into his own in just a few short weeks. He guessed that being away from his family let the boy shine in his true capacity.

            Hannah had the wonderful idea to celebrate Hermione’s birthday on September 19th in their Room. She went into the kitchens, helped the elves with a cake, while Harry and Neville took care of some decorations. Well, mostly Neville, who ordered the Room to change according to Harry’s ideas. Hermione was surprised that her friends did this for her and that they somehow found out her birthday, but wasn’t complaining. The four of them spent the night in the Room, much to Hermione’s horror in the morning. But no one came looking for them when they left, no one reprimanded them for not being in their dorms, so they figured as long as they were careful, they could occasionally have a sleepover together.

            Harry sometimes thought of contacting Remus Lupin, using the number Dumbledore gave him, but somehow never got around to do it. Something always intervened, and when Harry remembered to do it, it was far too late in the evening for a call. But one day, it wasn’t necessary for Harry to call the man to talk to him about his parents.

            Dumbledore still had to hire a new Flying instructor (last Harry heard of Hooch she was facing an examination from the Board of Governors), so he found the only one that was qualified and available.

            Halfway through October, there was a new addition to the Head table. Remus John Lupin was introduced by Dumbledore as the new Flying instructor that morning, receiving a polite round of applause from the students in the room.

            Harry was momentarily shocked. He saw the man, with an extremely shabby set of wizard's robes that had been darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with grey. He was supposed to be the same age as Snape, and while the Potions Master didn’t look very much like he was in his early thirties, Lupin looked so much older. It was perhaps because of the stress of the the werewolf transformations the man had to go through every month.

            His eyes roamed the Great Hall, smiling upon all of the students, but it was clear that he was searching for someone in particular. In less than five seconds, he immediately honed in on Harry, who was at the table in the back with his friends. The boy got a pang of sadness in his chest seeing Lupin. This man was marred and shaped by James, Lily and Peter dying and Black’s betrayal. He was the last of them alive or not in prison, and was the only chance for Harry to capture the legend of his parents.

            “Harry, is that...” Neville whispered in his year.

            “Yeah, it’s him.” Harry reluctantly responded.

            “Who is?” asked Hannah, drinking pumpkin juice.

            “Remus Lupin. He was one of my parents’ friend.” Harry said, looking at the table.

            What was wrong with him? Here was this man, someone he was dying to meet, holding all of the answers Harry waited all of his life to hear, but now all he wanted to do was run the other way. There was this horror inside of Harry that the boy couldn’t shake off, a trepidation that he never felt before, a feeling of dread that completely ate him up. Harry was rarely this anxious and unsure of himself, so this was something that completely threw him through a loop.

            “I have to go.” Harry said, gathering his things in a hurry, ignoring the looks he was getting. “I’ll talk to you guys later in the Room, okay?” he said, leaving the Great Hall, not giving his friends a chance to react properly. He turned off his phone and made his way to the owlery, passing by all of the students enjoying the last sunny Saturday morning of the year.

            Once inside the tower that housed all of the owls, Harry made his way up top to Hedwig, who instantly flew to Harry’s side, like she sensed something was off with him. She looked up to him, almost expectantly. Harry offered his left arm to her, and Hedwig landed on his forearm.

            “You are a bright girl, you know that?” Harry smiled sadly at her.

            Hedwig gave her usual acknowledging sound, but this time it sounded almost exasperated, like she was saying `Yes, yes, I am wonderful, now what’s bothering you?’.

            “I don’t know Hedwig. Remus Lupin was announced as the new Flying Instructor today. I told you about him, right?” Harry continued when Hedwig slightly bobbed her head. “Well... I wanted to talk to him, but I got so scared when I saw him today.”

            “I promise I am not that frightening.” said a voice.

            Harry whipped his head around to see Lupin standing by the staircase, with his hands behind his back and a smile on his face.

            “P-Professor Lupin.” Harry stuttered.

            “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Harry.” he responded with a chuckle. “And please, it’s Remus when I am not in class, although, from what Severus has told me, you don’t need Flying class.”

            “Yeah. I kind of got the last instructor fired.” Harry found his humour.

            “So I’ve been told. I promise to do a better job than madam Hooch. But I was really surprised to hear how she left in the first place.” Lupin continued, walking closer to Harry.

            “Well, she had it coming, really.” Harry stood his ground.

            “Come, let’s take a walk.” Lupin put a hand on Harry’s back, as Hedwig moved to the boy’s shoulder, and the three of them went outside.

            “Have I really scared you so bad?” Lupin asked Harry with a small tremor in his voice that was barely noticeable.

            “Well, not you per se, but more like...”

            It was then that Harry realised he had been lying to himself. He had numerous opportunities to contact the man, but he wasn’t that busy, he just thought to himself that he was. He always put it off not because he never had the chance, but because he was afraid of what the man might say.

            “Yes?” Lupin tried to get an answer as they walked the grounds.

            “I was afraid of what you might say about them.” Harry concluded.

            “Your parents, you mean?” Lupin asked, at which Harry nodded. “Why would you be?” Lupin gave a nervous laugh, like it was out of his perception as to why Harry would be scared to hear about his parents.

            “I have lived all of my life with this idea in my head about them,” Harry started, “based what my aunt and uncle told me. So I knew some things about who they were, but the rest I made up myself. And some of the things Snape told me, those challenged that idea of them. But you had the real information, so I guess I was scared to hear something so different about them that would change how I feel about James and Lily Potter.”

            Lupin was taken aback by that. He looked _shocked_ , actually.

            “You live with Petunia?” he almost shouted, as they stopped on the rocks near the entrance to the wooden bridge that led to the clock courtyard.

            “Yes, why?” Harry frowned.

            “No wonder you were so afraid to hear about them, the things that woman must’ve told you about them... Of course you don’t want them to be real!” Remus argued.

            “Erm... She told me that they were kind and wonderful, especially my mother. Why wouldn’t I want that to be real? I was more worried it _wasn’t_ how she told me.” Harry reasoned. “And why does everyone think she is a bad person? First Dumbledore, then Snape, now you! What did she do that’s so bad?” Harry demanded to know.

            Lupin blinked in rapid succession.

            “I thought she and Lily didn’t get along.” he said.

            “Well, I know they didn’t, _she_ told me so, but they were good towards the end. And she still took me in, fed me, clothed me, and took care of me like she did for her own son, so I am tired of hearing how she is a nasty person, _because she is not_!” Harry raised his voice, frustrated that everyone had a bad impression of his aunt. Delusional people, really.

            Lupin had to raise his arms in response, conceding to Harry’s point. Truly, that was such a Lily thing to do and say, the man wouldn’t be surprised if the boy wasn’t channelling her right now. Although, to see Lily’s personality on an exact replica of James would’ve been the shock of the century fifteen years ago.

            “I hear you, Harry, no need to go for the jugular.” Lupin laughed.

            “Sorry, I just get defensive when someone says that. People change all the time, they’re not caricatures that stay two dimensional.”

            “Yes, to be a person, you have to have depth, as your mother would say.” Lupin mused.

            “Was she really a good person? I am asking for the truth here, Remus, I don’t want you to think you have to hide things from me.” Harry noted.

            “She was.” Lupin nodded as they sat on the rocks, watching the few other students were in their vicinity. “She was one of my only friends at Hogwarts, and she was always kind and fair, always wanted to treat people based on their actions, not who or what they were.” he continued. “Which is why she and your father didn’t get along at first.” he chuckled.

            “He was a bully.” Harry was almost whispering at this point.

            “Yes. Towards Severus, at least, but it’s still something I’m not proud of. He and... Black didn’t treat him with the kindest approach, something I never supported, but I also never stopped.” Lupin told Harry. “I also fear what it might do to you, seeing as you remind him so much of James.”

            “We talked about it.” Harry revealed. “It’s all good. For what he did during Voldemort’s reign of terror, I asked him to accept my father’s apology so that I can forgive him.”

            “James _actually_ said he is sorry? To Severus Snape?” Lupin raised his eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

            “Positive. Snape told me so himself.” Harry laughed.

            “Well. I never expected that.” Lupin responded, looking at the Black Lake with a sort of melancholy to his tone. “I guess people do change.”

            “I guess they do.” Harry agreed as Hedwig hooted in approval.

            “So, Harry, now that you have overcome your _crippling_ fear of knowing about your parents, is there something you wish to know?”

            Harry spent the next few hours with Lupin, sitting on that rock, talking about James and Lily. It was weird, but peaceful, in a sense, that the boy finally got everything he ever needed to know in particular about his parents. The elusive figures he wondered about all his life suddenly became much clearer in his mind eye. With every story Lupin told about their time at Hogwarts and beyond, they gained more colour, more contour, overall becoming more like people, not just ideas. By the time it was way past lunch, Harry had made his way for the kitchens, send a group message to his friends to meet him in the Room after the meal (he was careful not to use VTrunk) and climbed to the seventh floor with food packages in his hands.

            He didn’t have to wait long for his friends to arrive. Hannah, Neville and Hermione entered the room barely a minute after Harry did. The boy thought to eat a sandwich, but he was halfway through taking the first bite when the door sprung open.

            “I swear, what’s with him and cryptic – GAHHH!” Hannah shouted when she saw Harry sitting on the couch. “Why do you do that?!” she cried, as Harry stared at her. “Why does he do that?” she turned to the other two, who looked just as confused. “What are you doing here?” she demanded at Harry, closing the door behind her.

            “What do you mean, ‘What am I doing here?’. I am trying to eat something waiting for you three!” Harry frowned.

            “You sent us a message ten minutes ago that you were going into the kitchens to get food and then meet us in the Room!” Hannah complained further, but Harry still wasn’t getting it.

            “And?” Harry shook his head.

            “How did you get here?” Hermione piped in, while Neville just looked like he got the theory of Advanced Transfiguration from fifth year as homework.

            “Well, for starters, I was born on July 31st 2000...” Harry drawled out, tired of this pointless argument.

            “No, you daft comedian, I meant how did you get in the room in such a short time?” Hermione sighed.

            “Climbed the stairs?” Harry tried, but they didn’t look much convinced.

            “Seven flights of stairs and a half? _After_ you got the food?” Neville asked, but this discussion was already off in Harry’s mind.

            “Okay, I am not getting it.” Harry shot his arms out defensively.

            “Let’s recap. You told us you were going to get food, right?” Hermione began, and Harry nodded. “Which meant you were on your _way_ to the kitchens, so anytime up to two minutes to get there. Then you ask the elves to get you some food, which lasted...” she left the sentence hanging, waiting for Harry’s answer.

            “Three minutes. But it took me almost four to get to the kitchens in the first place.” Harry corrected her.

            “Right. So then you climbed up to the seventh floor and entered the Room, is that correct?”

            “Yeah?” Harry shrugged, waiting for the punch line.

            “So how did you get here in three minutes from below the Great Hall?! It took us twice as that to get here, and we used that shortcut Neville found last week!” Hannah shouted.

            Harry opened his mouth to respond, but quickly closed it, because he didn’t have an answer for that one. If he thought about it, it was decidedly odd that he made the trip so quickly.

            “I... Don’t know.” Harry answered honestly.

            “Right... What shortcut did you find and you won’t tell us about?” Hannah crossed her arms.

            “None! I think.” Harry added. “You know me, I always zone out whenever I walk somewhere alone. I put my headphones in and just move automatically.” he defended himself.

            “Bloody typical.” Hannah sighed. “The one time you didn’t pay attention to anything and you went through a time portal or something.”

            “Wormhole, actually.” Hermione, Neville and Harry answered at the same time.

            “Speaking of things that we shouldn’t do _ever_ again...” Hannah shuddered. “Please stop being a one-minded organism, it freaks me out.”

            “Well, let’s just move on for now.” Harry sighed.

            “What, just forget that you did the impossible? _Again_?” Hannah was absolutely livid.

            “Well, I can’t exactly put the memory of my walk into a Pensive and give you all a look, now, can I?” Harry retorted, taking out his laptop to finish an essay.

            “And why is that?” Hermione asked, doing the same as him.

            “First of all, I don’t have a Pensive. Secondly, I don’t know how to do it.” Harry responded simply.

            “I swear, one of these days, I will make a freaking map of this place.” Hannah muttered angrily.

            “You and me both.” Harry agreed.

            Harry talked about his time spent with Professor Lupin, and tried to replicate as closely as possible the stories he was told. Hannah and Hermione were ecstatic for Harry, but Neville seemed a bit off. Harry then realised that the other boy was in the same situation as him, with barely any knowledge about his parents his whole life. Harry then decided to quote the most memorable time Frank and Alice faced off with James and Lily in a competitive “Who Is The Best Couple” in their sixth and seventh year, respectively. At least Neville seemed to like it. It was most likely than anything he heard about his now mentally incapacitated parents was from his grandmother, who would no sooner tarnish her son’s reputation with trivial, insignificant things than she would dress in fuchsia, according to Neville.

            For the next few weeks, Harry’s timetable remained unchanged, except for one thing. He had regular talks with Lupin on Thursday evenings in the man’s office, breaching almost every topic. For some reason, Lupin never disclosed to Harry that he was a werewolf, so Harry never made a move to tell him that he knew. It was perhaps a rather private matter, and no amount of personal talks with Harry would likely make the issue come up. But Harry could see why Remus Lupin was friends with his father and Sirius Black, two renowned jokesters in their time in school. Whenever the subject of lycanthropy was brought up, or it had to do with some events that Harry knew from Snape, the man quickly manipulated the situation, or omitted a few details that might suggest to someone that the course of action was not recited in its entirety. Harry had to give it to the man, he could lie and dance around the truth to the same calibre as someone like Dumbledore (although Harry never experienced the latter first hand, as the Headmaster had a tendency to be rather blunt with him). If Harry didn’t know the full truth, he wouldn’t catch on Lupin’s omissions.

            Harry, Neville, Hannah and Hermione spent everyday with each other in the following weeks, studying, playing or trying to speculate who was responsible for the Broom Incident and whatever was hidden under that trapdoor the Cerberus was guarding. Hermione actually came up with the idea of having a visual board of sorts to keep track of their theories, instead of always having to remember them.

            Harry acquired a large floating screen that connected with his laptop that he placed in the Room. It could react to certain gestures a person would make, like moving the screen to another tab or open and close a file and so forth. The only thing it was iffy on was writing; doing so with the special pen it came with made some wonky characters instead of what the user tried to write, so they opted to use the pad it came with, the tablets or the laptops to use the pen.

            This device, called _True Scribble_ , was an upgraded version of the black boards the school was using, so it did cost a bit of money, but Harry had no qualms with that. (Really, his personal account received 500 galleons a month from the time it was opened, what was he supposed to do with it all?)

            They worked endlessly on it, trying to solve their supposed mysteries. Hermione made the references to every single sentence on the board in a separate file, Hannah came up with the diagrams they used, while Harry and Neville tried their best to piece it together. Sadly, Neville was more inclined to organize it all, rather than try and solve it, and Harry had no one to trade ideas back and forth when he got into it. Sure, Neville got what he was saying, but Harry had a way of explaining certain things that most people didn’t quite get the first time.

            Sadly, it was to no avail. Even with all their work, they had to accept that they barely got a sliver of information, not the whole thing, so the entire mystery was at the moment unsolvable.

            Thus, the four friends resigned to wait for another opportunity to solve everything. They focused back on their classes and Quidditch in Harry’s case, and simply followed the natural course of things.

            Suddenly, it was 31st of October, Halloween and the anniversary of James and Lily’s deaths. The green eyed boy was of course sad about it, especially today, but it wasn’t like he was overwhelmed with sorrow. Some people came to him on his way to class to express their condolences. Harry thanked them for their sympathy, but quickly grew weary of it all, as almost every one on the student body made it their mission to say how sorry they were.

            “It’s not like I am the only one with dead family members, for heaven’s sake!” he angrily whispered to his friends on their way to Charms.

            “Chin up, the day is still young.” Hannah remarked.

            “The _week_ is still young, Hannah, it’s barely Monday, and I have a feeling anyone who didn’t get to express their _sorrows_ today will try during this week and I will freaking explode someone’s head off!” Harry retorted.

            “Please tell me you’re kidding.” Hermione frowned.

            “Hyperbole, ‘Mione. It’s not like I can actually do it, you know.” Harry sighed, wistfully.

            “I wouldn’t bet on that so quickly, Harry.” Neville laughed from behind him as they entered Flitwick’s classroom. “Who knows what you’re capable of in the future?”

            “What’s the deal with you not wanting to receive condolences, anyway?” asked Hannah as they sat down.

            “It’s the numbers I’m dealing with. _Forty_ students so far, ten at lunch!” Harry responded, bringing out his laptop. “I was over it the moment they made a _queue_.”

            Harry’s eyes darted in front of him, where he saw Draco sitting with Gregory and Blaise. The latter two were on Draco’s left, apparently talking amongst themselves. Draco however, had his head slightly turned to his right, looking at nothing in particular. To Harry, it looked like the blond boy was listening, possibly to his rant about well-wishers, but he bit his tongue before he could say anything to the other boy.

            The class started as soon as Flitwick entered the room. It was finally, _finally_ time to learn the Flying Charm. Besides Hannah, none of their group had quite mastered it yet. When she tried to explain to her friends how it worked, it proved to be folly, as they couldn’t get the finer details out of the girl. Suffice it to say, Hannah was rather exceptional in the subject and the _fine print_ of the instructions, as she put it, was of no use to her. She just did it. Evidently, this infuriated Hermione, but Neville was quick to point out she did the same in Transfiguration.

            Professor Flitwick explained the charm first and how to interpret the methods it used to levitate objects. There was a collective ‘Oooh’ heard throughout the classroom, as several students finally had the missing piece. Harry was among the loudest. He could now better understand the need for instructions as well as instructors.

            They started with feathers, some not quite making it fly, others whipping their hands or wands so fast they had no idea if the spell worked or if it was just wind. Hermione made it after a few tries, as did Neville and Harry. Hannah made her feather fly and dance around in shapes since the beginning of the lesson. She was now currently browsing something called Handprint on her laptop.

            “Hermione, what’s Handprint?” Harry whispered to her, bringing himself a bit closer to his table so that Neville wouldn’t obstruct his vision.

            “What?” she answered, suddenly not aware that she was using her normal voice.

            “ _Shhh_...” Harry retorted. “ _Volume!_ ” he gritted his teeth pointedly.

            “Right, sorry.” she hastily added. Neville was snickering under his breath and muttered something that sounded like ‘You have phones, you know?’

            “Quiet, you.” Harry said to the boy, before turning back to Hermione. “Anyway, what’s Handprint?”

            “Oh, _that_.” she answered, keeping an eye out for Flitwick. “It’s the wizarding equivalent of Facebook.”

            “Of course it is.” Harry sighed.

            “Can you guess what it uses instead of ‘likes’?” Hermione cheekily added.

            “High-fives?” Harry sardonically answered.

            “Oh, that would’ve been a good one. But no, it uses ‘Fist-Bumps’.” she admitted.

            “Of all the...” Harry rolled his eyes, but something interrupted him.

            “ _Stupid, bloody_ ,... _Wingardium Leviosar_!” someone to Draco’s right was raging, but thankfully Flitwick was too busy with a Ravenclaw student to pay any attention to him.

            Ronald Weasley, who Harry hadn’t noticed by now that he was standing in front of him, was having difficulties with the spell they were learning to day and was whipping his wand back and forth.

            “No, stop, stop, _stop_!” Draco suddenly became aware of what was happening in his vicinity. “You’re going to poke someone’s eye out!” he admonished the readhead.

            “What do you want, Malfoy?” Ronald angrily retorted.

            “Well, _Weasley_ , if you weren’t sitting so close to me, I wouldn’t care if you injured someone with your raving wand waving, but as it stands...”

            Harry was suddenly intrigued. This was Draco, helping someone else. Granted, he still managed to come off superior and detached, but the fact remained.

            “You don’t need to be so _brutish_ about it, it’s all just a swish and flick.” Draco responded calmly.

            Harry’s other friends suddenly caught on the interaction. Their reactions varied with degrees of bewilderment and mistrust. A large part of Harry couldn’t believe Draco was helping someone of his own volition, but he was trying to show Harry that he could be nice. But Draco, tragically, had not yet reached undeniable levels of subtlety when trying to show off, and was constantly looking for a reaction from people, often noticeable. But this was not the case. The blond boy was focused solely on Ronald and gave no indication that he was waiting for outside response.

            Ronald, through some miracle apparently, tried to follow Draco’s instructions, but failed again.

            “ _Wingardium Leviosar!”_ Ronald whispered, but his feather stubbornly refused to move in the slightest.

            “Right... Now your problem is that you don’t pronounce it properly.” Draco continued. “It’s Levi _osa_ , not Levio _sar_.”

            “You do it if you’re so good at it!” Ronald blew off steam, in a pique of rage. “Go on, then!”

            Draco merely regarded him with a raised eyebrow and sighed, after which he dressed his voice and intoned clearly the spell, making the proper gestures with his hand.

            The feather rose slowly, but surely, as in a few seconds it could be seen towering over any other in the room. The action caught Flitwick’s eye, of course, as the small Professor turned around from the Ravenclaw he was discussing with.

            “What is...? Oh, oh my. Oh, splendid, mister Malfoy! Splendid! Ten points to Slytherin! See, _this_ is how it’s performed.”

            Ron huffed in annoyance, but it was about to be even worse for him, as Flitwick saw the dancing Hannah’s feather was doing on its own and nearly doubled over.

            “M-Miss Abbott... This is _extraordinary_! Twenty points to Hufflepuff! My word, what an amazing...”

            The list of expletives went on, as Flitwick praised both Hannah and Draco for about a minute, before the bell rang. Homework was quickly assigned and the students exited the classroom and headed for their final class of the day, Astronomy.

            Harry and his friend were on the grounds, walking in the slightly colder than usual weather, when it happened.

            Ronald, apparently still touchy about his underperforming act in Charms class, was now mocking Draco to his dorm mates.

            “It’s Levi _ooosa_ , not Levio _saaar_! He’s a nightmare, honestly, no wonder Potter dumped him!” he laughed.

            Out of nowhere, Draco brushed past Ronald and quickly made his way into the castle, giving the redhead pause. Draco had his head down and was not making eye contact with anybody. There was only one thing that Harry could attribute to that.

            Damning waiting for an apology, Harry made his move. He walked faster to where Draco went, trying to catch up to him.

            “That was incredibly rude and hurtful, _Weasley_!” Harry shouted at Ronald as he walked past him, making sure to accentuate his last name the same way Draco did. Ronald tried to sputter something, but Harry was already gone by that time, with his friends trying to keep up with him.

            But Draco was nowhere to be found on their usual way to Astronomy Class, and was conspicuously absent from that as well. Not even during dinner was he to be found. Harry was getting more worried.

            Some piece of salvation came, as Harry overheard Zabini and Nott on their way to the Great Hall, talking about someone in the boy’s bathroom on the ground floor crying. Thus, he resigned to talk to Draco later, in their Common Room. At least he knew he was okay.

            “Are you sure about this, Harry? One incident doesn’t equal change.” Hermione asked during the Halloween feast, a rather extravagant event, even by Hogwarts standards. Lots of candies and sweets adorned every table in the Great Hall, decorated in the most wonderful ways Harry had ever seen. The elves really worked around the clock on this one, it seemed.

            “Would the Draco we think we know be so sullen after a comment made by someone?” Harry responded.

            “I don’t know, Harry. But I don’t think it is proof either.” Hermione rebutted.

            Halfway through the meal, the massive oaken doors were cast wide open, the sound of wood against stone grinding heavily on everyone’s ears. Harry, Hermione, Hannah and Neville were closest to the entrance, thus were the first to see Professor Quirrell run into the Great Hall within an inch to his life, gasping and trembling. What came next, surprised everyone.

            “TROLL! IN THE DUNGEON! TROLL IN THE DUNGEON!” the rambling Professor shouted at the head table.

            Silence. Dead silence filled the vast room in a microsecond. No one, not even the teachers made a sound. All was frozen into place, like that moment when someone snuffs a candle. It seemed to go on forever, in that second of pause.

            “Thought you ought to know.” Quirrell added, before his eyes went into his head and promptly fainted on his face.

            Chaos, pandemonium corrupted the entire student population. Shouts of fear and of panic were heard from everywhere, as all of the students abandoned their sweets and candies in favour of salvation.

            “ _SILENCE_!” Professor Dumbledore stood up and raised his voice over the _whole_ school, at which point everyone was more fearful of the Headmaster than the troll. Harry himself felt like confronting the troll than this otherworldly Dumbledore that could scream you into obedience.

            “Now,” Dumbledore regained his calm immediately, like it never actually left, “Prefects, please lead your House students into your Common Rooms. Slytherin, please remain here and close the doors. Teachers, follow me into the dungeons.

            Harry was on the verge of throwing something at Dumbledore for explicitly saying that Slytherin students were to remain in the Great Hall, with a _troll_ wandering about the corridors. But then he remembered the Slytherin Common Room was actually in the _dungeons_ , where the troll was supposed to be right now, so that was actually a smart move on the Headmaster’s behalf.

            But then again, there was one Slytherin student who didn’t know about the troll. The only person who wasn’t in the Great Hall at the time.

            Harry quickly grabbed Hannah and Hermione, made his way to Neville, then quickly tried to take the all to the side of the Great Hall, as everyone exited in waves.

            “Harry, what – “Hermione started.

            “Draco doesn’t know about the troll!” he whispered hurriedly, hiding all of them behind an alcove, out of the sight of the people now climbing the stairs.

            “We should get a teacher...” Neville cleverly suggested, but it was too late, as Harry spotted Dumbledore going down to the dungeon with other teachers in tow.

            “Crap, they’re gone.” Hannah observed. Harry then immediately tried to get his phone to call Dumbledore, but he quickly discovered that he couldn’t.

            “No service.” Harry sighed, pocketing the device furiously.

            “We could still...” Hermione insisted.

            “Do you want to face the troll? Because that’s were they’re headed. C’mon, the bathrooms on the ground floor are not far, we can get him and we can all get back here.” Harry ordered.

            They silently moved through the suspiciously dark corridors, looking left and right for any sign of trouble. By the time they made it to the junction leading to the bathrooms, Harry’s mind was racing.

            Turning right at a corner, there was a giant shadow over the walls in front of them, going to the right. The girls and Harry quickly retreated behind the corner, while Hannah grabbed poor Neville, who was confused by all of it.

            “Hey, enough with the...”

            “ _Shhh_!” Harry motioned. “The troll is there!”

            Indeed, peeking over the corner, the four could see the giant creature, taller than Hagrid even, slowly making its way somewhere, carrying a club made out of bone with him, dragging it across the floor, scraping the gravel. It was hideous, green skin and droopy face, and there was a faint smell of dung coming down even where the four were hidden.

            Hermione instantly gasped when she realised something.

            “It’s going into the boy’s bathroom!” she cried.

            Harry’s blood ran cold, with all thoughts of safety out the window. There wasn’t enough time, anyone that could help them were too far away to be reached before Draco could get hurt. Harry rushed past his friends, ignoring their sounds of protest, as the troll opened the door to the bathroom. But Harry was determined to stop the thing. His friends, seeing as they had no choice, followed Harry, even if just to keep him safe.

            They entered the bathroom easily. The smell was even more pungent here, and they all had a hard time breathing the air. The troll didn’t notice them yet, it was just looking around in the room it entered thankfully paying no attention to the entrance it came from. The troll looked much taller up close and much more ferocious. For a moment, Harry’s instinct was screaming at him to get away from this potential danger.

            But then the farthest stall in the room opened. Draco came out, sniffing and wiping his cheeks, with eyes tired and red. He casually made his way to the sink on the wall to his right, washed his face, and attracted the attention of the troll. When Draco raised his head to look in the mirror above the sink, he caught sight of the troll and immediately turned around to face it.

            Bad move. The troll, outrageously upset by the sudden movement, started growling and howling, whipping his club to hit Draco. Thankfully, he moved away just in time, screaming all the way for help. Unfortunately, the troll hit the sink, and now there was spraying water everywhere.

            “Draco!” Harry shouted. “Get back!”

            Harry threw his hand in the air and tried to make the troll fall back. It wasn’t as powerful as pushing larger things, as the troll stumbled back but did not fall. But it did notice the other people in the room.

            Hannah and Hermione started throwing any type of charms and spells they knew and Neville was trying to cast _Incendio_ at it, but couldn’t produce enough flames to hurt the creature.

            Harry was now using both his hands to try and hold the troll in one place. It was the most difficult thing he had done yet, as he was actively using his magic to stop an oncoming force of twelve feet and who knows how many hundred pounds. The troll was enraged, trying its hardest to move against the invisible hand holding him back. He was advancing towards the four, slowly but surely. It was more than exhausting for Harry, using all that magic to stop it, trying to concentrate on the act itself instead of the cacophony of sounds made by his magic, the spells his friends were shouting, or the troll’s growls of rage.

            Harry’s hands started to tremble, and as he loosened up his grip on the troll, it suddenly remembered his club and raised it in Harry’s direction, who was now almost kneeling from all the exhaustion. He looked up, seeing the monster curl his face into a horrific expression and made its move to hit Harry, who had no time to get away.

            “ _NO_!” Draco shouted, beyond terrified and shot out his arm as if he was trying to reach Harry. Then, the strangest thing happened. It all happened so fast, if one blinked, they would’ve missed it. But everyone in the room witnessed what came next.

            A huge icicle burst through the troll’s left shoulder from its behind, extremely close to its heart, seemingly coming out of nowhere. The sound of pain the creature made was loud enough to be heard for miles, as it forgot about his potential victims and tried to remove the protruding object from his chest with both hands, dropping his club.

            But Harry was quick, quicker than the rest, and immediately threw the club with a grunt and a shout at the trolls head, almost viciously so. But it seemed Harry threw it too hard, because the second the club hit, it split in half at the bulbous end from impact, and the troll fell on its side, crushing the stall closest to him with a loud crash.

            In the wake of it, Harry finally caught his breath and noticed a terrified looking Draco sitting with his back to the wall, with his arm stretched out. Next to him, instead of the broken sink with spraying water, there was an entire block of ice occupying the space, from floor to celling, with numerous sharp icicles standing out of it, with a large one in the place where the troll was, now ripped out at the end.

            “Draco!” Harry ran to the boy to check up on him. “Are you alright? Any injuries?”

            “I’m fine, Potter.” he finally managed to say, still visibly shaken. “Is it... Dead?” he asked after a moment’s pause.

            “Well, if it isn’t now, it’s just stubborn.” Hannah remarked from Harry’s behind. The boys turned to look at her, but she was busy staring in the direction where the troll fell, standing directly in front of it. Harry and Draco slowly made their way to the destroyed stall, as did Hermione and Neville. As they all arrived, they could see the body of the creature, with arms bent at weird angles and one knee shattered from the fall. But the thing that made them all draw breath, save for Hannah, was the troll’s head. It was crushed and bloody, almost flat so, with bits and pieces of skull and brain matter all around it, a gush of blood sprayed on the wall and leaking out on the floor from the beast. It was gruesome, pure and simple, to witness such a sight. Harry’s blood ran cold, because he realised he was the one that did this. He threw the club at the troll and _shattered_ its skull so hard it exploded. It was his power that made it possible, his will that shaped this event to take place. All it took was a wave of a hand, and someone ended up dead. _Horribly_ dead.

            _No_ , Harry reasoned with himself. _Not someone,_ something. _It’s not a person, it tried to attack me and my friends._

He hadn’t had time to ponder further on his situation, as a commotion drew all of the children’s attention. McGonagall, Snape and Quirrell, of all people, entered the bathroom. McGonagall gasped loudly, Quirrell gave a startled sound and Snape was... well, Snape. They went past them after a second of making sure the children were alright, and then saw the body of the troll.

            “What... What is the meaning of this?! Explain yourselves immediately!” McGonagall threatened, waving her wand at them. Frankly, Harry would rather face the troll again.

            “It’s my fault, Professor.” Draco suddenly spoke with a sure voice, something that didn’t seem possible a mere moment ago. “I went looking for the troll. I read about them and I thought I could defeat it. But I was wrong. If it wasn’t for them, I’d probably be dead.”

            Now, Draco wasn’t the most honest of people on good days. He boasted by exaggerating, or omitted a few details in a manner that all Slytherins did, but to _outright_ lie to someone’s face? A teacher, no less? And for Harry, Hermione, Neville and Hannah’s benefit? That was a new one.

            “Mister Malfoy, I am very disappointed in you right now.” McGonagall ordered. “Ten points from Slytherin for your lapse in judgment.”

            Snape never said a word during all of this, even though the respective student was in his House, therefore his responsibility. He was merely studying them, Harry in particular. The boy knew what Snape was thinking, or at least could guess it. But Harry observed something about Snape. His right leg was bleeding, judging by the dark red stain on the man’s robes. Easy enough to miss, but noticeable if you looked directly at the man. Or if your attention was elsewhere, like it was for everyone in the room.

            “As for you four...” McGonagall continued, drawing Harry’s attention back to her. “I hope you know that this was very foolish of you, and you could have been easily hurt or worse. Not many could stand up to a full grown twelve foot mountain troll and live to tell the tale!” She continued in her stern tone, but there was a compliment somewhere in there if you squinted hard enough. “Twenty points... Will be awarded to each of you.” she added with a defeated look. “For sheer dumb luck!” she accentuated before moving towards the exit.

            “Back to your common rooms, _now_.” Snape said, with a tone that would work perfectly with him checking his nails or something. Really, how can someone look and sound so disinterested all the time?

            Quirrell mumbled something abut cleaning up the mess, but Harry wasn’t paying attention to him. Snape was in front of him, leading the way for the students. Hermione and Neville said goodbye at the staircase and promised to talk later in the Room, while Snape wasn’t listening and Hannah bid them goodnight near the Hufflepuff Basement. Snape lead Draco and Harry to the dungeons, but told Draco to go inside the Common Room and motioned for Harry to follow him in the man’s office.

            “Sit down.” Snape commanded as they entered the foreboding looking room full of jars of who knows what. “Potter.” Snape started, sitting in his own chair, facing Harry.

            “Severus.” Harry stood his ground.

            “What did I tell you two months ago, when you started this school?” Snape crossed his arms, as did Harry.

            “Not to get caught breaking the rules.” Harry answered simply.

            “And what did you do tonight?” Snape raised an eyebrow.

            “Saved Draco Malfoy’s life.” Harry countered.

            “Is that so? And what, you thought you could do it on your own?”

            “Clearly not. I had help, as you saw earlier.” Harry continued in the same tone.

            “And pray tell, why didn’t that help consist of capable people, like your teachers, for instance?” Snape continued.

            “The second I tried to go to you, you were all already gone in the dungeons, where we assumed the troll _already_ was. We didn’t know it was on the ground floor and we barely got to Draco in the nick of time, _with_ shortcuts. A few seconds later and he would’ve been dead. We didn’t actively sought out the troll, it was already there, and we were just trying to tell him that there was a troll in the school.”

            “The notion of sending a text message wasn’t even in your mind? You have his number, the Headmaster’s, mine and Minerva’s.”

            “There was no service.” Harry rolled his eyes.

            “Convenient, don’t you think?” Snape drawled out.

            “For someone, yes.” Harry suddenly realised.

            “Pardon?” Snape shook his head.

            “Nothing, nothing. Look, I never wanted to go for the troll, I just wanted to warn Draco, because he wasn’t in the Great Hall at the time, and the only way to do that was to get to him in person. The troll being there was just bad luck. We stopped it and nobody got hurt. Well, except for the troll itself, who is quite dead.”

            “So I’ve gathered. Impressive, given the size and durability of the creature. Very well, Potter, it is abundantly clear that you did not actively sought out trouble and were only in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Snape sighed. “Ten points to Slytherin.” he added lazily.

            “Thank you, Severus. Now, I have a question for you.” Harry said laying back on his chair.

            “Yes?” Snape answered curious.

            “Why did you try to get past the Cerberus on the third floor corridor?” Harry asked without missing a beat.

            “How –“Snape stammered.

            “You’re bleeding from your right leg and you’re limping, and there was only one other creature in the castle at the time capable of doing that to you.” Harry looked straight into Snape’s eyes.

            “And how do you know there is a Cerberus in the school?” Snape intoned dangerously.

            “Why did _you_ try to get past it and are not going to Madam Pomfrey right now?” Harry regarded him, knowing the answer.

            Snape paused for a moment and looked with something like frustration at Harry, before responding.

            “Why do you think?” Snape asked.

            “I’ll get back to you on that. In the meantime,” Harry remembered, “is there a spell that can stop the staircases from moving?” Harry continued, hoping to get the message across that he happened upon the Cerberus by accident.

            “ _Duratus Gradibus_.” Snape responded, looking at his phone. “And try to be more careful next time. Now, to bed with you, I need you rested and in one piece for the Quidditch match.” Snape dismissed him

            “Severus, that’s Saturday, not tomorrow.” Harry frowned.

            “All the same...” Snape left the sentence hang in the air. Harry stood up and left the man’s office. He went into his dormitory, tired and sleepy. He wanted to talk to Draco, but it seemed the boy was already in bed by the time Harry arrived. He shot a quick text to everyone else before changing his clothes.

            _Harry @Scarheads: Tonight, 3 A.M., the Room. I’ll bring Draco._

_Hermione @Scarheads: Are you sure?_

_Harry @Scarheads: Yes._

_Hannah @Scarheads: I’ll bring snacks._

_Neville @Scarheads: Please and thank you. See you all later._

            Harry’s alarm sounded off much earlier than expected, as if he just blinked and it was time. Thankfully, WizTech devices had an area of effect for alarms as to not disturb everyone in the vicinity, except for the user.

             Harry shot out of bed and immediately went to Draco’s, hoping that the boy wouldn’t make too much noise when he was woken up. To his surprise, as he drew the curtains, the boy was wide awake, on his phone, aimlessly browsing something.

            “What – Potter, what are you doing?” asked Draco, thankfully in a low voice.

            “Apologising.” Harry said, sitting down on Draco’s bed.

            “Harry, there’s no need to.” Draco said, not looking at the other boy.

            “Isn’t there?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

            “No. You saved my life. I think that counts enough as an apology from you.” Draco huffed.

            “We can debate this later. Now come on.” Harry grabbed him by the arm.

            “Again with this?” Draco complained but still followed suite. “Can I ask my captor where we’re going?”

            “Seventh floor. You’ll see.” Harry said simply, letting Draco go as they passed the entrance to the Common Room.

            “So you admit.” Draco added with a tone of humour.

            “To what?” Harry asked as they neared the staircase.

            “That you are basically abducting me.” Draco said.

            “Shut up.” Harry laughed, a bit louder than he should.

            They made their way to the seventh floor, stopping in front of the tapestry. At least, according to Draco. Harry could see the door clearly, knowing fully well the others were already inside.

            “I appreciate the fact that you wanted to show me trolls as ballerinas of all things, especially tonight, but I fail to see what’s going on here.”

            “Ah.” Harry just realised, noting the irony here. “There is a door hidden on the wall opposite of it.”

            “There isn’t any door!” Draco rebutted immediately turning around.

            “Hence the hidden part.” Harry bemused.

            “Fine. How do I find it?” Draco rolled his eyes.

            Harry thought for a moment if he should tell the boy. Neville devised a way to tell others about the existence of the Room, exactly what to think about to get their specific refuge. But Harry had one other idea to get Draco inside, to see if the boy was genuine. One final test.

            “Think of wanting to meet your friends and spend time with them.” said Harry as he sauntered towards the door and entered, leaving Draco out in the hall. Hermione, Hannah and Neville were sitting in their usual spots, discussing and eating snacks. Hermione nodded at Harry when he entered and pushed a cup of tea towards him.

            “’Morning.” she said, trying to push the wild hair out of her face.

            “Glad to see you’re all here.” Harry greeted them. “Oh, are those chocolate biscuits?” he suddenly zoned into the goodies.

            “Help yourself.” Hannah pushed the plate in front of him. “Where’s Malfoy? I thought you said you were bringing him.”

            “Oh, I did. He’s out in the hallway, trying to understand how in the world I went through a wall like a ghost.” Harry laughed.

            “Why didn’t – “Neville started, but then the door opened and Draco appeared in the room. He looked around with big, starry eyes, taking it all in, somehow still managing to be surprised by the other occupants.

            “Ghastly security measures you got in here, anyone could just waltz right in.” he drawled out, walking towards them, but Harry could see the shame and hesitation in his eyes.

            “Have a seat, Draco.” Harry gestured to a newly appeared armchair that faced all of them. Draco complied. “Now, I wanted to apologise...”

            “Potter, stop.” Draco motioned to him. “There is no need to, I’ve told you. I said some pretty hurtful things, I am the one that should be apologising. _Is_ apologising.” Draco turned to Neville and Hermione with meaning.

            “Maybe, but I am still sorry I shut you out. I shouldn’t have, you made a mistake...” Harry was interrupted.

            “Mistake?” Draco laughed without any warmth. “I was a right arse to you and Longbottom. Even Granger, at times.” Draco sighed.

            “Why? Forgive me, but I am still unclear on the motive here.” Harry motioned Draco to elaborate.

            “Because I am a pureblood heir.” Draco responded simply, putting down his phone and looking straight at Harry.

            “And I am a Leo.” Harry shrugged. “Being born into something doesn’t mean...”

            “But it does.” Draco countered. “It means I was born into a certain bloodline, an old and distinguished bloodline. I am considered the cream of the society, high class... You don’t know what it’s like.”

            “Malfoy, Neville and I are also purebloods,” said Hannah softly, “we know what it’s like. We all have those relatives that always have to remind us about the importance of blood purity. Just don’t listen to them, ignore the old twats!” she advised.

            “But your father is not _the_ Lucius Malfoy, Abbott.” Draco reprimanded. “You didn’t have it drilled inside of your head for all of your life that he is a power and influential man and that it’s expected of you to follow in the same footsteps.”

            “Power and influence don’t make you automatically insufferable.” Hermione reminded him, at which everyone nodded. “I mean, look at Harry.”

            “Well...” Harry playfully started.

            “Okay, so money makes you a bit of a prat, it’s unavoidable.” Hermione played along, shrugging theatrically, to lighten the mood. It seemed to have worked, because everyone started laughing. Even Draco sported a small smile. Harry noted it was the first time he’s seen Draco actually smile in a long time.

            “It’s not just power, money and influence. Those I can deal with easily. It’s... Look, what I am about to say does not leave this room.” Draco got all serious.

            “You have my word.” Harry spoke.

            “No, Potter, listen, this is dead serious, alright? It’s dangerous.”

            “I promise you, we won’t tell anybody else.” Harry swore, as did the other three.

            “You know my father was a supporter of the Dark Lord, right?” Draco waited for the others to convey their understanding. “He wasn’t just a supporter, and he was certainly not coerced into doing it. He was a Death Eater.”

            Hannah and Neville gasped loudly, while Harry and Hermione looked at each other in confusion.

            “Sorry, what’s that? A Death Eater, I mean.” Hermione dared to ask.

            “It means that my father was in the inner circle of You-Know-Who’s fighters. He didn’t just support him, he funded him, he fought for him... he _killed and tortured_ for him.” Draco’s voice wavered at this. “Innocent people were hurt because of him, muggles and muggleborns alike. And I personally have no issue with muggleborns in general, I mean... they’re just people! People who have done nothing wrong with me!” Draco started to go on a tirade, but Harry wasn’t sure he was speaking to them anymore. It felt more like an argument Draco would have with his father. “Why should I have to shun them, to degrade them, or consider them lower than myself? Just because they don’t have a fortune somewhere deep underneath Gringotts? Because they can’t trace their lineage to eighteen generations back into a family that is considered of a higher standing? Because they come from a different culture that wizards? I don’t want to! But... I have to.” Draco finished, almost in tears.

            This was the most vulnerable Harry had ever seen the blond boy. And in front of an audience, too. Something inside Harry’s chest felt heavy, like pity and sadness mixed into one. This was the real Draco, the one he was seeing in front of him, silently wiping his tears from his eyes, this scared out of his wits kid, not the ponce that strutted down the hallways everyday.

            “No, you don’t, Draco. You don’t have to be anyone that you don’t want to be.” Hermione, of all people, comforted him. Draco looked at her with sad eyes, slightly nodding, with his lips in a tight line.

            “I know, Hermione.” Draco spoke in soft tones once again. “But if I don’t show my father the image of what he wants to see, I will be in so much trouble.”

            “So show him then.” Neville started, making Harry jump slightly. “Pretend to be want he wants you to be on the outside.”

            Harry made a note that it was a reasonable solution, but he knew, as did Draco, that it had a drawback.

            “It’s not that simple. At first, I was what I was instructed to be. I became friends with The Boy Who Lived, noted his patterns for observation, but then... I didn’t want to do it.” Draco looked at Harry. “I know that you knew what was going on, and the fact that you still remained my friend, still held out hope for me is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me. So I wanted to stop doing it. I wrote to my father...”

            _“You did what?”_ Hannah shouted.

            “Yes, I know. Stupid of me.” he admitted.  “He... _strongly_ suggested that it is in my best interest that I continue to give information on Harry.”        

            “But you did stop. I mean, how could you send your father updates if you weren’t speaking with Harry anymore?” Hermione interjected.

            “But at least I had an excuse, even though father constantly sends me letters reminding me to repair our friendship.” Draco admitted. “And I don’t know if after tonight we will all be friends again, but I don’t want to keep sending him information. I mean, what is he going to do with it, anyway? It’s not like he can use it to harm you.” Draco looked at Harry. “And the Dark Lord is dead, so he has no reason to go after you, unless he wants a mass of people asking for his head!”

            “It is possible that he is being cautious.” Harry conceded. “Making sure he knows where the supposed enemy, ergo me, is at all times and what he’s doing. Information is power, after all.” at which Hermione nodded. “And we are friends, Draco. We will never judge you on behalf of your parents, only on your actions. I forgive you.” Harry went and hugged the poor blond, who had a look of disbelief on his face, like he had never been comforted physically before, like it was a foreign concept entirely.

            But he accepted the hug nonetheless. Harry retreated, letting Draco apologise to the others for his behaviour. It was all hugging and sniffling, very reminiscent of Barney and Friends, or something like that. Harry was just happy that it finally came together, that he could have Draco as one of his closest friends.

            “So, what are you going to do?” Hannah asked a few minutes later, as they were all eating. “About your dad, I mean.”

            “I am going to still send reports, like nothing happened.” Draco said after a minute of thinking. “Boring stuff, like I’ve written before. I’ll let him think he has won.”

            “Really, you should stand up to him more. I mean, can’t be worse than the troll.” Hannah laughed.

            “If you remember, I was cowering in a corner, screaming at the top of my lungs,” Draco cracked a smile as he remembered, “while you four _bravely_ came to my rescue.”

            “Oh, please, we were done for. Harry was almost down, we couldn’t do anything and Harry wouldn’t have stopped it if you hadn’t stabbed it in the shoulder. _With ice_.” Hannah added for good measure. “First Potter goes all telekinetically inclined all of a sudden, then you actually control an element.” Hannah countered.

            “Did you always know that you were an Elemental?” Hermione asked, as if she was asking about the weather.

            “Sorry, a what now?” Harry asked.

            “An Elemental, Harry. It’s someone who can control one of the four core elements. You know, fire, water, earth and air.” Hermione responded.

            “Those aren’t elements.” Harry scrunched his face. “Hydrogen, Oxygen... Those are elements.”

            “ _Magical_ elements, Harry. Not Muggle ones.” Hermione sighed.

            “To answer the question, Abbott, no. I didn’t know until know.” Draco said finally.

            “How do you know he _is_ one?” Neville asked Hermione.

            “Well, he didn’t do any spells, for one.” she started.

            “But it could’ve easily just been accidental magic.” Neville countered smartly.

            “Not on that scale.” Hermione shook her head, taking another cookie. “And accidental magic is usually without a clear resolution. It happens when a strong intent exists, but it doesn’t always fix the problem. Let’s say you are five years old and someone takes your toy from you. You obviously want it back, so you use magic, unknowingly. Does the toy come back to you, does the person who took it trip and the toy falls to the ground...? It differs. But I don’t doubt it that Draco _wanted_ to do that, on some level.”

            “I did.” Draco added. “In that moment, I knew that I could do something. I didn’t know _what_ , but I knew I could do it.”

            “Try it now.” Harry placed a glass of water in front of him. 

            Draco looked very much like in class, asked to perform magic he thought was a bit complicated at the moment. But in true Malfoy fashion, he straightened his back, put on his determined demeanour and pointed his hand at the glass. For a few moments, nothing happened. Then, Harry felt the slightest bit of magic coming from Draco, at which point the water in the glass rose up in an ever changing deformed bubble, earning the gasps of everyone in the room.

            “Wicked!” pronounced Hannah.

            “Yeah, it is.” Draco turned to Hannah, but his momentary distraction caused the water to fall down on the glass, which in turn fell down the table. Luckily, Harry made it hover in mid air, a few milliseconds before it hit the ground.

            “So you control air, then?” Draco asked.

            “No. At least, I don’t think so.” Harry responded. “Shouldn’t there be a gust of something?”

            “Yes, that’s correct.” Hermione said as she put the glass back on the table manually. “If you were an Air Elemental, you would create gusts of wind. This, however, is just magic you’re doing. _Somehow_.” she added bitterly, possibly because she still hadn’t figured out how Harry did it.

            “How did you discover it?” Draco asked, curiously.

            Harry then proceeded to talk about their adventure with the Cerberus and almost getting caught by Filch in the process of escaping. Draco maintained a shocked expression throughout the entire retelling of it all.

            “So, there is something in the school that’s protected by a three headed dog on the third floor corridor? But what?” Draco concluded.

            “Whatever was in that Gringotts vault that was broken into.” Harry said as he put the _True Scribble_ board in full view and explained their theories to the blond boy.

            “Wow, you really have your hands full.” Draco remarked after a few minutes.

            “I know. Oh! I almost forgot.” Harry exclaimed, standing up to the board, talking as he wrote. “Snape tried to get past the dog tonight, during the troll debacle. Or was at least in the vicinity of it. He had a bit on his leg, was bleeding and limping.” Harry explained when he turned to see his friends’ faces.

            “Why would he get bit? He’s a professor, shouldn’t he know how to get past dangerous beasts?” Hermione remained cynical.

            “He should’ve asked Hagrid how to calm the Cerberus, in my opinion.” Draco commented.

            “ _OF COURSE!_ ” Harry shouted, making everyone jump in fear. “Hagrid is the one who likes dangerous creatures, the man wishes for a dragon for crying out loud! Who else would know about it? Better yet, who would’ve brought the dog in the first place! And Hagrid brought the thing in the vault here! He knows everything! We must...”

            “Harry, calm down. You can’t just go to Hagrid and demand answers. This is dangerous information for us to have in the first place.” Neville spoke with a voice of reason.

            “Yes, but Hagrid trusts me...”

            “Not with this, Harry. You aren’t going to coax it out of him that easily, no matter how much he adores you.” Hermione added. “It’s getting late, let’s get back to our dorms. We’ll talk in the morning.” she decided.

            But as they cleaned up after themselves and went their separate ways, Harry couldn’t think of anything else but to go immediately to Hagrid’s hut and pound on the wooden door until the man talked to him. First lead he had in weeks, courtesy of Draco, and he was supposed to wait?!

            As he walked with the blond back to their dorms, Harry calmed down somewhat, reminding himself that demanding things of people never went smoothly, unless you had the upper hand. He would have to be clever and most importantly, cunning. But he had no doubt, that with the help of Draco, as well as his other friends, he will find out what’s happening.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so, soooooo sorry it took me this long. Five months, I could slap myself! I had a very hard time with work and college at the same time, it was just a mess. I finally got everything on track. Please excuse my absence. But, as they say, better late than ever! (Please don't hate me)  
> So, Draco and Harry made up, Draco apologised and now ELEMENTALS?? WHAT ARE THOOOOSE? Well, self explanatory. Or, Hermione explanatory. Whichever. This was very hard to write, I just wanted to get this chapter over with, because the real action starts next. Yep, you know what's coming... Quidditch! See you next time. And I promise it's not going to be as long this time.


	9. The Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of the first Quidditch match of the season has arrived, with a couple of surprises along the way. But because of this, Harry realises that some answers were staring at him right in the face. Nothing will be the same ever again.  
> A.N.: Please be careful when scrolling this chapter and every chapter from here on out. I tend to use bold, capslock and italics a lot and those grab attention, and in this particular chapter it spoils much of the storyline. So just scroll one line at a time or have nerves of steel.

Between classes, Quidditch practice and spending time trying to figure out all the pieces of the puzzle that was the Cerberus, Harry didn’t have a lot of free time. Adding that Draco now wanted to make up for lost time, it meant that the dark haired boy wasn’t alone with his own thoughts for more than a few minutes before bed, and whatever brilliant idea he could’ve had before falling asleep was gone by morning, when it all started again.

            Thus, Harry didn’t have time to talk to Hagrid like he wanted to. It was like the Universe was constantly finding ways to occupy his time. Even Snape, who usually gave lighter homework in his classes a week before a Quidditch match was now hounding the first years, but Harry suspected it was aimed at him rather than anyone else in his group, because more homework meant less free time, and less free time meant less getting into trouble. Harry would’ve offered to do compulsory extra credit for the class if it got Snape off of his friend’s backs. Neville had enough trouble understanding Potions as it were.

            “It seems like he wants to bury us in our computer screens!” Hannah complained as they sat down Wednesday evening in The Room.

            “It’s not like you do anything else, anyway, so why not learn something while you’re at it?” Hermione said as she opened her bag and immediately started writing as soon as she opened the laptop. Harry had a sneaking feeling she did something so that her device was always on, even with the screen down.

            “I could do homework for other subjects!” Hannah retorted.

            “No, you wouldn’t.” Harry laughed as he opened five different tabs on Cerberuses.

            “I said _could_ , not _would_ , Harry.” Hannah sighed.

            “Damn it!” Hermione exclaimed, making the two other occupants of the room turn to her. “See, this is what I get for not saving it in VTrunk!”

            “What happened now?” Harry made a face.

            “I had a draft for the essay on my flash drive, but I gave it to Draco.” she rubbed her hands on her face, making it a bit hard to understand what she was saying.

            “Why do you even have a flash drive?” Harry asked. “Better yet, what would Draco do with it?”

            “I had some movies on my laptop that he wanted to see, so I used that. I just forgot I had the document there.” the girl sighed. “Well, I’ll just have to hope that he has it with him when he gets here.”

            “Where is he and Neville, anyway?” Hannah asked. “They were right behind us.”

            “No idea.” Harry responded without looking away from his screen. “You have cell phones, call them.”

            “They’re not answering.” Hannah said after a few moments.

            “What could they be doing?” Hermione worriedly sighed, looking at her phone and then at the door. “New proposition, we install GPS locators on our devices.” she declared.

            “Invasion of privacy, first of all, and we would still need a map of the place. Otherwise, we could see that we are next to each other, but there is a wall or a few floors between us.” Harry reminded her.

            “What, you think Dumbledore doesn’t know where we are at all times?” Hannah smirked. “We use the castle’s Wi-Fi most of the time, and even when we aren’t, there are enhanced cell towers on the turrets that we connect to so that we can reach the satellite.”

            “And how do you know that?” Hermione asked, outraged.

            “Who do you think gave the approval?” she answered coyly.

            “The Department of Magical and Nonmagical Communication?” Harry tried, genuinely clueless.

            “Which is a subsidiary of Magical Law Enforcement, who has laws regarding the tracking of people using their devices.” Hannah replied, proud of herself for knowing something Hermione apparently didn’t, seeing as the latter’s jaw was currently on the floor.

            “But that’s still an invasion of privacy! They are tracking our devices! There is no mention of such a thing in the guidebook whatsoever! When did any of us gave approval for that?” Hermione went on a rampage.

            “Did you _fully_ read Terms and Conditions?” Harry joked, hoping to alleviate her anger, but was ignored.

            “Calm down, they don’t know whatever creepy links you visit at night, you still have that right.” Hannah joked, but Harry could see Hermione’s ears going slightly red at the tips. “They just know where your device is at all times, and because you have it all the time with you, they know where _you_ are at all times. Besides, they’re not looking at anyone specific unless it’s an emergency. Like, for instance, you go missing.”

            “Like we have for the last month and a half?” Harry observed. “Do you think anyone who checks can see where we are?”

            “Unlikely. This room can’t be spotted by normal means, I doubt even Dumbledore knows about it and _if_ he checks he would most likely see us gathered on the seventh floor corridor at worst.” Hannah responded thoughtfully. “Even so, they don’t check individual people unless in times of crisis. Trust me, with the amount of people with devices connected to the internet in this place, it’s a hassle to even load the screen. Crowded place, that.” she muttered that last bit for herself, tapping lazily at her computer. “And you agreed to it when you entered this place, the same way you agreed to having the Trace put on you the moment you were Sorted, Hermione.”

            “The – _who_?” interjected Harry.

            “The Trace is a Charm put on wizards and witches who are under seventeen years of age. When any magical activity is performed in the vicinity of the underage individual, the Improper Use of Magic Office within the Ministry of Magic is alerted to the spell that was used and to the location of the caster and the time. The charm allows the Ministry to track underage magic, which is banned under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. The Trace automatically breaks upon a wizard or witch's seventeenth birthday.” Hermione recited, barely pausing for breath.

            “Do you _eat_ wiki entries?” Hannah asked, horrified.

            “I wanted to know why I can’t do magic outside school.” Hermione defended herself. “The entry stuck with me when I read it. I’ll send you a link, Harry, so you can read for yourself.” she offered, typing at her phone.

            Harry’s phone dinged with a VTrunk notification and one second later he was burying himself in articles upon articles of the necessity of having a way to monitor underage wizards since the Statute of Secrecy, each one more stern than the other. It was rather inconsistent, this Trace, as it had specific way of working to detect underage magic and had numerous areas where it wasn’t applicable, due to lack of muggles.

            After a few minutes of relative quiet, the doors to the Room opened, showing Draco and Neville entering, talking with each other in a minor disagreement.

            “... no magical artefacts in the eighteenth century that size!” Draco continued what appeared to be a long conversation between the two of them on their way to their friends.

            “Cassiopeia’s necklace is.” Neville countered, closing the door behind him while facing Draco, both of them oblivious to the other occupants in the room, who were watching them intently.

            “It shows you an image of what you would look like as the opposite sex, why would someone try to...” Draco started.

            “Um... Hello?” Harry stopped them, making the two boys turn around at the same time towards him. “Nice of you two to join us after disappearing like that after lunch.” he made a disapproving face, making Neville turn beet red with shame.

            “Sorry. We went to the library.” Draco replied with less strength in his voice than before.

            “Whatever for?” Hannah peeked her head from behind the screen.

            “Cross-referencing magical items with the one Harry saw in Vault 713 to find out what it is.” Neville said to no one in particular as he sat down in his usual spot beside Harry.

            “And you didn’t think to mention this?” Harry continued. “Just let us know before you do something. We could’ve helped, you know.”

            “We know. We’re sorry, it was a spur of the moment thing. We were talking and Longbottom came with the idea and I just... Dragged him along.” Draco apologised.

            “Well?” Hermione sighed after a few seconds.

            “Well what?” asked Neville.

            “Did you find anything?” she motioned with her hand towards them, exasperatedly.

            “Nothing of note.” Draco drawled out. “There’s too many to consider and even then...”

            “It might be something that isn’t public knowledge.” Neville continued.

            “For what it’s worth, it’s a start.” Harry said with finality. “Draco, I believe Hermione would want her flash drive back.” he continued as the blond boy fumbled around his bag for it then tossed it to the girl, who caught it with skill. Harry had a passing thought, that it was a good thing Hermione wasn’t particularly good at flying, otherwise she might be too much of a good Seeker for Ravenclaw.

            The following days each of them would spend time in the library, trying Neville’s new tactic, but sadly, the boy was right. There were numerous magical artefacts and objects that _could’ve_ been the one from Gringotts and unfortunately, there was no way to narrow the search by size, so they had to comb through every single one. It was a slow process, even with all of them on the subject, and they seemed to get nowhere fast. Using the electronic side of things proved just as useless, after Harry reminded them that they had access to it, you know, because the only search option available was for titles and the Internet proved just as hard to navigate through when searching for something specific but they had no criteria for it. Harry wished he could ask Hagrid about it, but his timetable was exhaustingly crammed from dawn to dusk. Marcus wanted him in top shape for the match.

            As the 5th of November reared it’s head on a sunny but cold day, Harry went to breakfast with Draco, all the while dreading the next part. Some part of him felt like the training he received wasn’t enough, compared to others on the Quidditch teams that had years of it. What if he went out there and made a fool of himself? Catching the Snitch by himself was easy enough, but it was a training one and he had no one to run against him. And flying to save Neville was one thing, at least he could spot Neville easily.

            “Morning.” Hermione and Hannah greeted them. “Excited for the Quidditch match?” continued Hannah while Hermione scoffed disinterested.

            “Oh, yeah!” Draco exclaimed, setting down his Slytherin scarf and flag that he prepared beforehand. “We’re going to decimate Gryffindor, just you watch!”

            “I don’t know, they have a pretty good team. And Angus is not bad with a broom, I hear.” Hannah goaded Draco.

            “Who, Hickney? I’ve seen his training once, couldn’t find the Snitch on a cloudy sky.” the blond scoffed.

            “And who is the Seeker for Slytherin?” Hermione piped in, not wanting to be left out of the conversation for so long.

            “No one knows.” Draco replied earnestly, while cutting into his cheese omelette. “Apparently Flint decided it’s going to be a surprise.” he continued before eating.

            Harry kept quiet during this whole exchange, which was possibly a bad move on his part, because Hermione kept staring at him with a frown on her face, with her usual expression of trying to solve a puzzle. The boy was sure she was close enough to put the two and two together and figure out that Marcus’ surprise was the same one Harry had promised them. His saving grace was Hannah, who changed the subject.

            “Have any of you seen Neville? He isn’t at the library again, is he? The match is in half an hour!” she exclaimed.

            “He said he has to check something and that he’ll meet us on the way to the pitch later, by the Clock Tower.” Hermione said, not looking away from Harry.

            Harry immediately realised he suddenly had his excuse to leave the table earlier, after eating two sandwiches.

            “I’ll find him, don’t worry. See you guys later!” he said as he grabbed his things and made his way to the library.

            The rest of the castle was quiet. Anyone not at breakfast was still in their dorms, enjoying the last beautiful sunny morning of the year, before the weather turned harsh and unforgiving. Harry had no trouble navigating to his destination, content to have a few moments of peace with himself in order to calm down about the impeding match.

            But Neville was nowhere to be seen in any part of the library. He wasn’t in their usual spot and Harry checked up and down the aisles but still no sign of him. Resigned to use more _unethical_ means of location, Harry turned on his device locator. He got the idea after the conversation with Hannah about tracking devices. Any one of his devices could be shown by location should he misplace them if he turned on the option to do so. He quietly did this a few days after Neville and Draco disappeared, just as a precaution. He didn’t want to use it, truly, Neville could’ve just said he was going to the library but instead was doing something else and didn’t want his friends to know and Harry could trespass the other boy’s privacy immensely by doing this.

            Harry loaded the app with trepidation, as the screen showed himself as a singular dot in a blank sea, which Harry knew that was supposed to be Hogwarts, because he still couldn’t find a map of the damn place. Carefully zooming out, Harry saw another dot just a few meters ahead of him. Hopefully that would mean Neville was close by and not on another floor.

            ‘ _That can’t be right._ ’ Harry thought as he raised his eyes from the screen. Indeed, looking in the real life direction of the dot suggested Neville or the phablet was somewhere in the Restricted Section. But as he tried to come up with a solution, there was a muffled sound coming from behind the metal gates and a string of low curses.

            “Neville?” Harry tried.

            “Harry?” the boy appeared behind the gate after a few seconds, startled out of his own wits.

            “What are you doing there?” Harry asked equally parts amused, concerned and amazed.

            Neville motioned for Harry to follow him and the latter wasn’t about to _not_ to take advantage of this incredible opportunity to see what was behind those gates.

            “Keep your voice down.” Neville ordered and low tones and Harry gleefully complied, too shocked to say anything else.

            His enthusiasm was only enhanced when he got a closer look at the towering bookcases filled with ancient tomes, all dark and foreboding, promising dangerous and powerful knowledge for any who wished it. While the regular part of the library was impressive, colourful and vast, this was something out of a movie for the young boy, the imposing air around making him shiver. It could also have been because the warmth of the castle wasn’t as pronounced here.

            Neville led Harry for a short while through a series of shelves, venturing beyond the gate to not be seen and eventually stopped at a table with Neville’s things and his phablet illuminating a book.

            “How...?” Harry started, still astonished by this, but Neville was ahead of him.

            “I figured since everyone was at breakfast before the game I could sneak in here and find out more about our magical artefact without Madam Pince catching me.” Neville said, looking for more books, while Harry followed him closely. “As for how... I just entered. You know, pushed the gate.”

            “Wait, really?” Harry did a double take. “It wasn’t closed? I would’ve thought Pince has at least wards in place so she could detect if someone gets close to here without her permission, never mind actually _closing_ the way in.”

            At this, Neville’s pallor turned white as snow and began to shake.

            “I didn’t think about wards... Oh, Merlin we’re in so much trouble!” he exclaimed, gathering his things quickly.

            “Relax.” Harry laughed as he put a hand on the other boy to calm him. “If she had any wards she would’ve caught you by now.”

            “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” Neville agreed with him, settling down.

            “So nothing of note, then?” Harry asked, looking around.

            “Not one thing. And I can’t find many books that can reference what we’re looking for. Should’ve brought Hermione along...”

            There was a feeling down Harry’s back that instant, a cold drop out of nowhere that rose up to the back of his head as if pulled by an invisible force. For a second, Harry felt his fighting instincts kick in, his fingertips already drawing from the magic inside of him, ready to have it unleashed. But then muffled sounds of talking were heard somewhere ahead of them, deep in the Section, coming closer and closer.

            “...would’ve been able to find the books we need easier.” Neville continued, but Harry quickly shushed him and made a gesture towards where he heard other people. Thankfully, it seemed that Neville had started to develop rapid reflexes to Harry’s indications as of late, because he was the one that gathered their things, turned off the phone light and dragged the both of them behind a bookcase that was nearest to the exterior wall, where they had full view of the gates and most of the surrounding corridors, but were thankfully in dim enough light that no one could see them unless they were close enough.

            Harry’s heart beat rapidly in his chest, begging whatever higher power that was out there that they won’t be caught, especially now, with only minutes before his debut as Seeker. Oh, Snape would do incredibly painful things to him if Harry managed to screw things up.

            Speaking of the man...

            Both Harry and Neville were shocked to see Snape walking down the aisles with _Quirrell_ of all people. But it didn’t look like a leisure walk amongst two colleagues, Quirrell was raising his pace, with Snape hot on his trail. Quirrell was mumbling something Harry had trouble understanding, but what happened next threw both young boys into a loop.

            Snape grabbed Quirrell by the robes, turned him around and pushed him into the stone archway that formed the exit, coming down on the other professor menacingly. Harry was sure he gasped aloud with Neville, but the sound was thankfully drowned out.

            “S-S-Severus, I-I...” Quirrell stammered worse than usual, hands in the air defensively, trying to placate a dangerously close Snape.

            “You don’t want me as your enemy, _Quirrell_.” Snape threatened the man, accentuating every word as he spoke.

            “I-I-I d-don’t know w-what you m-mean.” Quirrell said, on the verge of crying.

            “Don’t you? Your little... shall we say perhaps _mishap_ earlier. Don’t think I didn’t figure it out.” Snape continued in the same manner, tightening his grip.

            “P-p-p-please, I-I d-don’t understand!” Quirrell cried out.

            “Of course you don’t.” Snape said as he finally released the other professor. “I’m onto you now, Quirrell. Don’t give me a reason.”

            And with that, he was gone, leaving behind Quirrell, who tried to catch his breath and the other two boys, who were still trying to understand just what in the world happened. Quirrell followed after Snape, after making sure the other man was gone, and after a tense minute, Harry and Neville exited their hiding place and ran to the public part of the library and promptly made their way to the pitch.

            “What the bloody hell was that about?” Neville finally found his voice.

            “I don’t know.” Harry replied, hurrying down the corridor. “I don’t know and I don’t have time to debate this, I’m supposed to be on the pitch in 7 minutes.” Harry breathed.

            “Wait, what?” Neville stopped in his tracks.

            “We’ll talk later!” Harry shouted, waving at the confused boy and made his way to the lockers.

            On his way, Harry tried to make sense of what he and Neville saw, but could not come up with anything. Why would Snape threaten Quirrell and what had the latter done in order to receive such treatment? What mishap were they talking about? Is Snape in the wrong or is Quirrell faking not knowing? He seemed genuinely terrified, but Harry remembered there is such a thing called acting and who knew what hidden talents the Defence teacher had?

            In moments like these, Harry was thankful that he had friends, brilliant friends that could come up with their own ideas and help him get some sense of this. Sadly, it would all have to wait until after the game. In the back of his mind, Harry admitted to himself that he wanted to catch the Snitch as quickly as possible not to win the match, but to get to his friends faster.

            His team was already in the lockers, most of them already changed. Harry hurriedly put on his robes, praying that they weren’t backwards and quietly sat down as Flint delivered his speech.

            “Listen up!” the Captain started. “I know we all are aware that the Gryffindors don’t stand a chance, but I don’t want us to be too sure of ourselves. We have a brilliant team and we’ve trained hard. You all know your positions and our tactics, make sure you follow them as closely as possible.” Marcus continued very formally, as was his duty, Harry thought. But the formality only lasted so long. “Now get out there and kick those Gryffindors’ asses!” he shouted proudly, at which everyone cheered and stood up. “Potter, a word with you.” Marcus intoned with his previous tone.

            Harry complied, hoping that he wouldn’t be scolded too harshly for being so late.

            “Are you nervous?” Marcus lowered his voice into a soft one and laid his hand on the younger boy’s back and regarded him with a look that Harry could only describe as worry.

            “No, no!” he replied quickly. “I’m fine. I can do this. _We_ can do this.” Harry agreed.

            Marcus only smiled and ruffled Harry’s hair, even though the younger boy had spent some time trying to groom it and make it look presentable before his first match. He was still trying to get in a suitable position by the time they were at the gates. The crowd outside was cheering and hollering all at once, sounds so loud and electrifying that they could be heard for miles. The enthusiasm was thick in the air, but Harry could only feel dread rising up in his throat. Or it could’ve been those sandwiches that he ate earlier.

            “What’s taking them so long?” asked Higgins after a while.

            “Wood is probably still giving his speech and you know that they have to be the first ones to enter.” Marcus replied tiredly. “And remember, don’t give them any reason to call foul. Lupin seems fair, but he was also a Gryffindor.”

            “He was friends with my father.” Harry was quick to point out.

            “Well then, he will definitely have to be impartial to all.” Marcus laughed to himself.

            Somewhere from the stadium there was a loud voice on a speaker, announcing himself as the commentator for the game.

            “ _Welcome, to the first match of the Quidditch Season!”_ he spoke in the same manner Harry would expect a boxing announcer to, but the crowd went wild with cheers. “ _My name is Lee Jordan and today we will have Gryffindor and Slytherin fighting each other in a match that will surely remain in HISTORY! Now, presenting the Gryffindor Quidditch team!”_ he continued as the crowd suddenly grew louder.

            _“Chasers: Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, aaand the beautiful Angelina Johnson! The Beaters this season will be of course, my two good friends, Fred and George Weasley! And now, their Captain and Keeper, Oliveeer Wooood! And last, but not least, the newest seeker, ANGUS HICKNEY!”_

The students were cheering so loud at this point, Harry didn’t think he would get the ringing out of his ears for days. But now it was their turn and the gates raised up to show the full stadium, filled with their supporters and their adversaries. The Gryffindors were standing in a line, and Harry remembered talking about how the teams of each of the Houses present themselves before a match. Gryffindor stood in a single line, to show that ‘None may pass’. Other Houses did something similar as well; Hufflepuff stood in a semicircle to say ‘Protected all around’, Ravenclaw stood in a zigzagged line to proclaim “Enter no further” and finally, Slytherin stood in the form of the tip of an arrow in a show that is meant to say “We will prevail”. Captains always stood in the middle of their formations to show leadership. It was rather all complicated for Harry, who would’ve preferred a simple line for everyone included, but that launched Marcus into a history lesson about the importance of their formations that lasted nearly an hour, so Harry dropped it and only tried to remember that he was supposed to go on the right side of the arrow to complete it.

            “ _And now, presenting the Slytherin team!”_ Lee continued in a much more subdued manner. “ _Chasers, Captain Marcus Flint, Terrance Higgins, and Arthur Voss! Beaters, Lucian Boyle and Peregrine Derrick!”_

            They all went in, Marcus first, Higgins and Voss after him, standing on his sides further back then the two Beaters did the same. It was only Miles’ older sister and Harry now. She smiled at him and wished him good luck, before Jordan announced her.

            “ _Keeper Laila Bletchley! And finally, Slytherin’s newest Seeker... Professor McGonagall, can you tell me who it is now?”_ asked Jordan in a manner Harry was certain was supposed to be discreet, but unfortunately the commentator forgot to lower the volume on his microphone. “ _WHAT? No, you’re kidding me!”_

 _“Jordan!”_ Harry heard McGonagall reprimand the boy.

            _“Right, sorry. Ladies and gentlemen!”_ Jordan regained his voice as a commentator.

            ‘ _Here goes.’_ Harry thought.

            _“We now unveil to you the newest addition to Slytherin’s Quidditch team, the youngest Seeker in a century... HARRY POTTER!!!”_ Jordan shouted and Harry had to remember to move his legs towards the exit.

            Outside on the green grass, Harry could see the the towers he became so familiar with for the past two months, now filled with people desperate to have a closer look at him. No doubt every camera was pointed at him and Harry had a nagging feeling his phone was currently buzzing with everyone tagging him in their Hoots.

            But the people were the most overwhelming. Everyone, absolutely everyone in the stands were cheering at his arrival, no matter which team they were supporting. It was like they were ecstatic about him playing on the field, wanting to see whether the famous Boy-Who-Lived was as good with a broom as he was at defeating Dark Lords.

            For a few seconds, Harry didn’t know which he preferred to do at the moment. But as he walked as straight as he could towards his spot, he caught Remus’ eye. The man beamed a smile in his direction, so proud he could not contain himself, giving Harry the much needed courage to continue.

            “I want a nice, clean game. From _all of you_.” Remus warned the teams, making sure to keep eye contact equally among them. “Captains! Shake hands!” he intoned as Marcus and Wood took a few steps forward and did as was asked of them. They looked more likely to crush each other’s hands than anything, but they returned shortly to their spots.

            “Mount your brooms!” Remus ordered.

            Harry quickly mounted his Firebolt 12, filled with excitement. This was it, the moment had arrived to prove to everyone that he was more than deserving of his spot on the team.

            Remus opened the trunk, letting the Snitch go, which immediately disappeared into the sky. The Bludgers were next, and went somewhere above the pitch, behind both teams and were set to start hunting for players the moment Keepers entered their respective goal posts.

            _“The Quaffle is released...”_ Jordan spoke as Remus threw the ball high up with a spell and Harry tightened his grip on the broom, ready to fly out. Everyone drew in a collective breath as the ball seemed to slow down. _“AND THE GAME BEGINS!”_ shouted Jordan as the Quaffle began to drop.

            Harry pushed himself of the ground in the next instant, veering immediately to the right and high up, to gather his surroundings. Everyone else flew in a flurry, with Gryffindor on the Quaffle.

            _“Johnson passes to Spinnet, Spinnet makes a run for it, but Higgins takes possession after a Bludger from Derrick! Higgins to Flint, Flint to Voss, Voss flying rapidly at the Gryffindor goal, feints left from Bludger sent by Weasley twin, Bell hot on the trail, VOSS ENTERS THE GOAL AREA AND SHOOT – BLOCKED BY KEEPER WOOD!”_

            It was intense, to say the least. They were all fighting their hardest to not be the first ones to lose the first game. Harry had to remember to look away and find the Snitch. He would have time to view the match later. So he began to fly around and search for it, doing rapid circles of the pitch. Hickey was doing much of the same, although he changed course every few seconds, either not sure of himself or it was another tactic.

            _“Spinnet takes control of the Quaffle, flies past BOTH Bludgers sent by the Slytherin Beaters, DIVES IN – COME ON ALICIA – Bletchley quickly takes position, Spinnet flies ahead, FEINTS GOING LEFT AND THROWS – YES! GRYFFINDOR SCORES! 10 – 0 FOR GRYFFINDOR!”_

Gryffindor supporters went wild with excitement, shouting and waving flags for their team. It was just a meagre ten points, but Harry’s resolve to win this match somehow got even bigger, so he started to move faster, moving in every direction possible, just waiting to catch a glimpse of the blasted golden thing.

            _“Voss takes position, blocks Johnson – you dog-“_

_“Jordan!”_

Harry had to agree with McGonagall, Jordan didn’t show the same favouritism when Bell did the same with Marcus just a few seconds ago and for some reason, it began to infuriate him that his team was being thrown insults for the same tactics Gryffindor was using.

            _“Voss takes the Quaffle, passes to Flint, and makes his way to the goal point, BLUDGER BY WEASLEY HITS FLINT IN THE FACE DEAD ON!”_

For a few seconds, it seemed like Marcus would fall off his broom and onto the ground and even with the dampening spells, it was more than likely to hurt. But the older boy gripped his broom tight, repositioned himself and drew out his wand to clean his face and fix his nose.

“FOUL!” shouted Remus from somewhere. “There is no need to hit in the face, Mr Weasley! Penalty shot for Slytherin!”

            Flint, now with a less bloody face but with the fury of a thousand suns, caught the ball from Remus without even looking and threw it so hard in hit Wood in the chest, going through the goal post along with him. The signal for the goal rung loudly throughout the stadium, inciting every Slytherin and supporter to scream their joy. It was now 10 – 10, but Harry was worried this match was going to go dangerously violent in a matter of minutes.

            “Next time you want it on the face come by the lockers and I’ll give it to you!” Marcus shouted at a recovering Wood.

            The game resumed as Harry predicted, with everyone on edge and the Slytherin Beaters trying to make up for Weasley’s attack and were now hitting the Bludgers so hard it could seriously hurt someone.  The trouble was that Bludgers, being much lighter than a person, could bounce off immediately when close to the ground of the pitch, sometimes with almost the same speed as it approached, making them seem like hurtful rubber balls.

            _‘Where in bloody Aunt Marge’s dirty panties are you?’_ Harry swore at the Snitch, which was still nowhere to be seen. Hickney was now flying low, trying to scour the ground for it, but didn’t seem to have any more luck than Harry, who resolved to inspecting from near the towers, moving between them at regular intervals, just as Marcus had advised him.

            But as it usually went, something strange happened. Harry’s Firebolt started to shake, harder and harder and by the time the boy noticed that something was wrong the broom shot upwards faster than ever before, dragging Harry along with it, whose screams of fear were drowned out by the stadium.

            Panic set in, as Harry relentlessly tried to steer his broom, but to no avail. It was like it turned to heavy steel, not moving in any other direction but forward, faster, ever higher.

            _“Higgins scores for – wait, is that the Slytherin Seeker?”_ Jordan could be heard, making almost everyone turn their heads in Harry’s direction.

            Harry was shouting and trying his hardest to do something, _anything_ , as the air turned unbelievably cold, going several hundred feet up in the air. He could not breathe, could barely see because of the tears in his eyes and then he passed through a cloud, the water soaking his uniform.

            Suddenly, his broom stopped, going deadly still, whereas a few seconds ago it was still shaking. For a moment, Harry thought that he had finally taken control, but his relief was short lived, as he started to go down and the Firebolt in his hands, which still didn’t obey his commands.

            Shouts of surprise could be heard from below, but it fell on deaf ears for Harry, as he struggled to maintain some control over the severe loss of a way to get out of this. His heart was beating loudly, likely counting down the last moments it would work. He was moving fast, too fast now to ever be caught and the dampening spells wouldn’t work with such a high speed.

            Harry was now upside down, flailing as he fell, still hanging to the useless broom, screaming at the top of his lungs. Everyone in the stadium was looking at him, some shouting, teachers trying to point their wands at him, but there was no stopping Harry’s fall.

            Harry closed his eyes tight and stopped screaming, trying to be brave about it, thinking about how he was going to meet his parents, accepting that he could do nothing at the moment. For a passing moment, he thought about all of those he would leave behind, how everyone would mourn him, how aunt Petunia would never make him cake again...

            But then his fighting instincts kicked yet again, a resolve to live more powerful than anything on this Earth, not just for himself, but for his friends, for his family. His parents would have to wait, God damn it.

            Gathering his powers, Harry tried something he never thought about before: _using them on himself_.

            He threw everything he could muster on a moment’s notice to slow him down. Apparently, it began to work, as the ground didn’t approach his head as rapidly as before, but it was still too fast and he was now at the top of the stadium. Every eye was turned to him, even the players stopped to watch him. Harry could barely hear himself think above the yells of panic from the spectators, Jordan’s comments or Remus’s roaring.

            Harry quickly looked for something to latch onto in his confusing, upside-down world, but as he moved his head backwards to see in front of him, there was a golden glint, just for a moment, coming from near the Gryffindor goals, midway up. He spotted it the second he was on level with it.

            ‘ _Let’s finish this.’_ he thought, as he directed all of his power into the Firebolt and launched it with himself forward to the Snitch, still upside-down. Just as well, as he was one second away from hitting the ground. The hurl he felt hurt his arms a bit, meaning that somehow the inertia dampening spells were down for the moment, but it didn’t matter to Harry just yet. The crowd gasped all at once when he darted rapidly through the lower end of the pitch. Whether he was going faster than the broom would’ve allowed him, Harry couldn’t consider, as he caught up with the Snitch. Unfortunately, the flying object tried to move away from Harry, but was not fast enough so it hit Harry in the face and he felt something hot and sharp, stinging him over his lower right cheek. But the boy had had enough of this, so he quickly turned to it, trying to move himself up to catch it. It worked, as he propelled himself upwards and in his reaching right hand he finally, _finally_ had the blasted thing in his hands that was now trying to escape Harry’s iron grip.

            But Harry half executed the manoeuvre with his powers, half like he trained to do, with his broom, which meant that he lost his balance while reaching out to his right. Trying to stabilise himself, Harry used his powers to hold his broom in levitation while he spun around with it towards the stadium, with his left leg in the handle to support his weight, left hand gripped tight on the end, pushing it further to allow the broom’s handle at a better angle for his foot and the rest of him hanging free. He then raised his right hand to the audience, huge smile on his face and adrenaline running free.

            _“HARRY POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! SLYTHERIN WINS! WHAT AN EXTRAORDINARY PERFORMANCE BY HARRY POTTER – “_ Jordan was trying to make himself be heard above the crowd that went absolutely ballistic. There was a small gathering forming near Harry, as his teammates, friends and colleagues, along with a few teachers, were coming to congratulate him.

            The Firebolt seemed to come back to his senses, as it began to shake back into life, so Harry mounted it immediately, thankful that it was working again, as he was feeling exhausted from keeping himself in the air for so long with his own magic.

            As Harry descended, his friends were the first to reach him, clamouring on top of him like the puppies they were, jumping up and down with joy, and Harry, so caught up in the infectious excitement, let himself go for a moment and just revelled in the bask of victory, his first of many to come in this sport.

            _“This is Lee Jordan signing off on what was an incredible starting match for the season. And remember to follow Hogwarts on social media such as Hooting, Quickpic and Tumblr and fist-bump us on Handprint for all things Quidditch or go directly to our website www.hogwarts.co.uk to see the full match online.”_

“Well, I do seem to have made that one more elegantly than I thought.” Harry remarked sometime later as he was walking with his friends and Hagrid on a stroll through the grounds. “Look at that, I almost die and people go nuts about it! Anyone else getting a strange sense of déjà vu?” Harry joked as he scrolled through his worldwide trending tag on Hooting, endless gifs and pictures of his face occupying every post, along with numerous articles. His hoots about the event were also everywhere, people favouring and rehooting his words.

 _@_ MirabellaFill: _Holy freaking shit, who trained this kid? #PottersAmazingCatch_

@Cyrrruss: _I??? Can’t with this??? #PAC #WTF_

@SinisterSinistra: _I HAVE BEEN GIVEN MY LIFE_   _#PottersAmazingCatch_

@LukasTriton: _I THOUGHT MY EDGES WERE OKAY THEN POTTER GOES AND DOES THIS I HAVE BEEN  S C A L P E D_

@UrqhuartBazinga: _This guy comes up in the club and smacks your girl’s arse, what do you do? qui.pic/aDe0..._

            @Lusterlulu: _@UrqhuartBazinga we both his girls now._

 @UrqhuartBazinga: _@Lusterlulu @UrqhuartBazinga lol, same._

“Oh my god, they’re hysterical!” Harry laughed.

            “I am _so_ saving all of these for future reference.” Hannah laughed evilly.

            “I like the one you took of Harry and us after the match, Hagrid.” smiled Hermione in the giant man’s direction. “It’s great. Ever think about doing photography?” she asked.

            “Well, I do take some pictures when I’m in the Forrest sometimes. They’re nuthin’ to be look at, most of ‘em.” the man blushed and talked mostly to himself.

            Indeed, Harry liked that one far more than the ones where he was holding the Snitch triumphantly. It showed him smiling and with his friends, surrounded by hugs and cheers. He sent that one to his Muggle family and resolved to find Hagrid’s Quickpic account later.

            “Why do you think someone tampered with your broom?” Neville whispered in Harry’s ear when Hagrid wasn’t paying attention.

            “I dunno. Perhaps it was the same person as the one who used Barratt’s Trap on the broom shed. But now I think it wasn’t just a regular somebody. To tamper with a school broom is one thing, to actively make a top of the line racing one stop working...” Harry trailed off.

            “I still think it was Snape.” said Hannah, drawing Hagrid’s attention. “I mean, first he tries to go past the three headed dog and then...” she started dangerously, ignoring Harry’s pointed look.

            “Hang on.” Hagrid stopped in his tracks. “How do yeh know abou’ Fluffy?” he asked the group of five. Hannah looked like she wanted to jump of a high cliff and Harry for a moment felt like helping her do it. So did Draco, by the looks of it, but that could’ve been his normal face.

            “Of course you named him Fluffy.” Harry sighed. “And we happened upon him by accident, I swear.” he defended the group.

            “How do yeh know I named ‘im?”  Hagrid crossed his arms like a six year old.

            Harry just regarded him with a look, making a face and tilting his head to the left.

            “Okay, fine, I named ‘im! So what?” Hagrid conceded, which would feel like an amusing situation to an outsider, a giant man being stared down by someone only slightly larger than his arm at best. But Harry knew he had to press on. In this state, Hagrid would be more likely to reveal something.

            “Snape did _try_ to get past it on Halloween. He basically admitted it to my face.” Harry continued, earning a shocked look from Hagrid.

            “Nonsense! _Professor_ Snape is one of the people tryin’ to defend it!” Hagrid countered.

            “ _One of them_?” Harry said before he could rein in his curiosity. “And what _is_ down that trapdoor?”

            “What’s down there is between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel!” Hagrid huffed dismissively, but he had finally given Harry and co. their missing piece. It seemed like Hagrid realised that so he hurriedly bid his goodbyes, stating that he had something to do, and walked away muttering to himself _‘_ I shouldn’t ‘ave said that,  shouldn’t ‘ave said that...”

            The group was frozen momentarily in place, staring at the retreating back of Hagrid’s head. They dared not speak, otherwise this bubble they were in would be popped back into reality. But Harry was determined to put an end to all the mysteries once and for all.

            “Someone google it, _now_!” he said turning back to his friends, but Hermione was one step ahead of him. She typed away at her screen hurriedly. Everyone was holding their breath, with knots in their chests, anxious to find their answers.

            “Come on, come on you stupid – _oh, for_ – MERLIN’S BAGGY Y-FRONTS, YOU’RE KIDDING ME!” she screeched.

            “Whoa, pipe it down, would you?” Hannah took a step back.

            “What did you find?” asked Draco.

            “Nothing!” Hermione was almost crying with frustration. “There is absolutely nothing!”

            “That’s not possible.” spoke Neville.

            “Let me see.” Harry ordered calmly and took the phone from the girl, with everyone else coming behind him to watch the screen.

           

_Your search – **Nicholas Flamel –** did not match any documents._

_Suggestions:_

  * _Make sure that all words are spelled correctly._
  * _Try different keywords._
  * _Try more general keywords._
  * _Try fewer keywords._



           

            “That does it, something is definitely wrong here!” Draco said angrily.

            “It’s been blocked.” Harry realised, turning to look at his friends incredulous faces. “Someone, likely the Headmaster, has blocked the search term from showing up. But why? Wouldn’t that just raise more questions?” Harry talked more with himself.

            “Try using mobile data instead.” Draco offered helpfully.

            “ _I am!_ ” a still angry Hermione responded with her arms crossed in a fit. “The Wi-Fi got slow after the match, everyone was online at the same time to talk about it! It’s not just the castle’s network he’s been blocking from accessing it, the search term itself has been blocked!”

            “Could it be because we are still relying on the cell towers around the castle?” Hannah supplied.

            “Maybe, maybe it’s larger than that, and unless we get out of their area, it’s impossible to know for sure.” Hermione subdued her feelings somewhat.

            “And we can’t do that until Christmas holiday, unless it’s an emergency.” Neville sighed.

            “Right. Anyone up for getting a serious injury or illness to get to St. Mungo’s and check?” Hannah drawled out.

            “We’ll deal with this later, we have other things to do right now.” Harry gave back Hermione’s phone. “Come on, we have to get to the Room.” he continued as he started to walk faster than normal, with everyone right behind him.

            “What is it?” Neville asked.

            “Something that Hagrid said about more than one thing trying to defend whatever is beyond Fluffy.” Harry said cryptically.

            “Don’t you hate it when he does that?” Draco asked under his breath.

            “Oh, yes.” Hannah sighed as she struggled to keep up with Harry.

            But he paid them no mind. His thoughts were racing and he had to get to their board to sort it all out.

            Once inside the Room, Harry threw his things on his spot and dragged out _True Scribble_ in front of everyone as they sat down and waited.

            “Hagrid said that whatever it is that we’re looking for is guarded by more than one thing.” Harry started as the board booted up.

            “Yeah, so?” Hannah spoke, genuinely clueless.

            “That means it’s more dangerous than we thought. I mean, placing a Cerberus to guard it is one thing, sure, take whatever precautions, but more than _that_? Multiple things? And that’s just Hagrid’s brute approach to defence, who knows what Snape thought of? Or others, even? We don’t even know how many traps are in place.” Harry said as he wrote new things on the board using the touchpad to add to their file on the mysterious artefact, underlying Nicholas Flamel several times.

            “So now we know that whatever is behind the trapdoor is dangerous enough that not even Fluffy is enough to protect it.” Hermione supplied.

            “Exactly.” Harry nodded. “It was in Gringotts, then it got moved to here, it got an entire floor of the castle for itself, numerous protections and who know what else between anyone and it. We’re still no closer to finding out what it is, but we know that in no way it should fall in wrong hands.” he continued.

            “So what does this mean?” Neville asked.

            “Someone’s been after it since the beginning. The break in at Gringotts first of all and the troll on Halloween was meant to distract everyone... Snape suspected that was the case so he went there to check, but Fluffy got to him before he could do that.” Harry continued.

            “How do we know Snape didn’t want to get the thing for himself when he went there?” Hannah supplied. “We know he used to be less than _noble_ and there was that thing during the match where he kept staring at you and mumbled under his breath. That was a curse if I know one.”

            “He was trying to help, Hannah.” Neville tried to placate her.

            “He wasn’t breaking eye contact! You all saw him!” she tried.

            “Yes, but did you see his face?” Draco interjected, thankfully. “That was his worried face. Trust me, I’ve known the man for all my life, I know his expressions by heart. All five of them.” he scoffed in true Malfoy manner.

            “Okay, fine!” conceded Hannah. “But I still don’t trust him.” she said.

            “Healthy attitude concerning Snape.” Draco made a slight nod to the side while looking at Harry’s board. “He’s a slimy one on washing day. But not when it comes to pupils in his care and especially not when it comes to Scarhead over here. He has a _soft spot_ for ickle Harry.” he mocked, but he was right, of course. “Besides, think of it this way: he had plenty of occasions to hurt Potter and get away with it, and even _if_ he wanted to do something to a student, do you think it would be to the only worldwide famous one, that he’s supposed to be in charge of, _while_ said student is trying to win a match for _his_ House and in a broader spectrum, add points to win the House Cup and Quidditch Cup, that which get him a nice bonus at the end of the school year?” Draco smirked. “It’s just not practical.”

            “True.” Harry turned around and pointed the _True Scribble_ pen at Draco before returning to view his work.

            “Does Dumbledore actually offer a bonus to the Head teacher that has one of the Cups?” Hermione asked out of the blue, and of course she was concerned with _that_. “Seems rather unfair to the other teachers in the school that aren’t.”

            “First of all, they have certain qualifications that they must meet, then it’s a sort of competition, it’s a lot of fighting for it when there’s an opening. Apparently it’s quite the sum. The rest just try to get the bonus for best performance.” Draco explained.

            “Where do you think Dumbledore gets the money for a bonus so big everyone fights for it?” Hannah airily wondered.

            “Binns’ yearly salary, probably.” Neville shrugged and spoke to no one in particular.

            “Oh, I definitely like you, Longbottom.” Draco smiled, which earned him a laugh.

            “Back to the important things, people?!” Harry lost his patience. “Now,” he continued after regaining control of the room “we all know that I statistically have to have some enemies in the school, it’s just impossible with the number of people that followed Voldemort. The proof is both of the broom incidents, the one on the first Flying lesson and the one today. But today proved that someone isn’t just anyone, it would have to be someone strong enough and knowledgeable enough that they could stop a broom such as the Firebolt 12, which brings us to this.” he said as he tapped the screen a few times and the schematics for his broom appeared, earning slight gasps from the other occupants of the room.

            “Twelve different anti-jinxes put in place, “Harry began to explain as he moved to the side so that they can see the chart that he had just made and extended the pencil into a stick to point at the board “owner interaction recognition softmagic, top of the line calibration with only a maximum of 0.63% latency error, anti-theft, anti-summoning, anti-wind servo... I don’t know about you, but I think it takes _a lot_ for a single person to comb through that and remotely take control of a broom, and that’s only what I could find in a few minutes.” he said, blowing his friends out of the water.

            Harry then closed the image and opened the hidden file he knew Hermione had secretly tried to break into before and opened his findings on Barratt’s Trap.

            “Now, this is where it gets interesting. This is actually a very complicated piece of magic, one that I still don’t fully understand, but from what I do gather, the more precise you make it, the harder it is to make and maintain. The spell would’ve had to be placed on the shed some short time before I arrived there and the same with the part of the spell that linked it specifically to me. Given that this is an unusual piece of magic and the added constrictions need more complex work, combined with what we learned from the other broom tampering, means that the person trying to get to me isn’t one of the students.” Harry declared, feeling himself filling yet again with adrenaline.

            “You don’t mean one of the teachers, do you?” Hermione said. “I thought we ruled Snape out of the equation!”

            “Honestly, you think all figures of authority are some sort of saints!” Hannah interjected. “They are just people, and people are capable of bad things! Even Dumbledore must’ve had a rebellious faze, and he’s _Dumbledore_ for Merlin’s sake.”

            “And he would be the first one to admit it.” Harry interrupted them. “And Hannah was right before.” he said, earning more confused looks. “When jinxing someone _to that degree_ you have to maintain eye contact, and the teacher’s spot is up on one of the towers on the side of the stadium, right in the middle of the oval, where they can see equally to either side of the field.”

            “Holy freaking hell.” Draco gasped and went white, putting a hand on his mouth with a look of absolute horror on his face. Harry was equally frustrated that Draco got the idea _before_ he finished explaining and so proud of the boy that he could cheer. Thankfully, no one else paid attention to him, the others were so fixed on Harry that they could ignore a trainwreck right in front of their eyes.

            “The person who tried to break into the bank is the same one that’s been trying to hurt me, the same one that lured a troll into the school to distract, the same one that like Snape, couldn’t get past Fluffy but knows the location of the artefact they tried to steal and more than likely knows some of the protections in place as they helped to put them there, is knowledgeable enough in obscure types of magic to achieve all of this, can fly under the radar to avoid detection and would normally not be suspected in a million years.” Harry felt himself shake with anticipation.

            But it seemed like Harry put them in too big of a daze, as the other three didn’t quite get it yet.

            “Oh, _come on_!” he exclaimed. “Who is the one person that fits all of this, who knew about the troll, who knows enough about dark magic to do something like this, who isn’t suspected by anyone except for us and one other person, with _whom_ did we have class with _right_ on that Thursday when Neville’s broom went haywire, who is someone who could move around almost unnoticed and wouldn’t present the slightest bit of a threat?” Harry was going out of breath at this point.

            And his friends, brilliant yet again, were slowly starting to realise the horrible truth that they all have been deceived to the utmost degree, that there was someone at Hogwarts with worse intentions than they thought before.

            Hermione was the first to realise what Harry was getting to and that he was most likely right, seeing as her eyes went as wide as teacup saucers, but it would be a few more moments before her mind caught up to what her brain was telling her. So Harry did the job for her.

            “Quirrell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI GUYS! So incredibly sorry that I waited so long to update, but I've had a rough patch these past few months, getting dumped, losing my job etc. so I wasn't able to write anything. I'm back, for what it's worth, and I continue to work on this. Don't worry, even if it takes me 10 years, this story will be finished. So enjoy having a longstanding relationship with fic.
> 
> In this chapter we finally take on Quidditch and boy, was I nervous about some things, but as usual, I am confident enough that it was adequate. And the ending gave me chills, honestly. I hope people weren't expecting me to keep Quirrell's intentions in the dark until the last minute of the school year, I mean, I established pretty early on that Harry can make quite the leaps of faith when it comes to deduction and manage to get it right at the same time. By the way, to clarify, Hagrid saying that more than one people are defending the Stone is indeed what made Harry realise the truth. More than one protection in place means the thing is dangerous, anyone trying to get it must be incredibly powerful and skilled and must get to it undetected, combining that with the broom incidents, the fact that they had Defence earlier the day Neville was thrown off his broom and Snape's threats, ALL of this made Harry point to one person only.
> 
> Until next time, when our protagonists try and figure out who Flamel is.


	10. The Holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas time comes with joy and... invisibility?

 

 

            “This is utterly _insane_!” Hermione shouted for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last hour. “There is no way _Quirrell_ of all people would be the one behind this.” She said as she gestured toward the smartboard.

            “We’ve been over it, ‘Mione, if we put everything together it points to him.” Neville argued back. “We had Defence just before Flying, and…”

            “I know, Neville, I _know_!” she cried, interrupting the boy. “It’s all very logical and proper, but I still can’t believe this bumbling, afraid-of-his-own-shadow man would be capable of attempted murder!”

            Harry sighed as he raised his face from his _Titan_ device to look at his friends. Neville and Hermione were still arguing in front of the _True Scribble_ , Draco was looking into empty space, likely stuck inside his thoughts, and Hannah was pacing the room, phone in hand and muttering to herself.

            “Listen, we can’t claim we know the man and his reasons as to _why_ he is doing this and we can sit around and debate it all day and still have nothing to show for it.” Harry intoned in a calm, commanding demeanour.

            “Draco…” Hannah started, scaring the poor boy out of his mind, “did your father ever mention the man? His connections, his life before Hogwarts, anything at all?” she tried

            “No.” Draco managed to say after a few tense moments. “No, he never spoke of him, just mentioned him in passing as the new Defence teacher after the Board of Governors meeting back in August. And even if he knew him, I doubt he would reveal it to me” he conceded with a sigh. “He never said anything about his other accomplices in the Death Eater ranks, just about his role.”

            “Oh, come on, we don’t think Quirrell is a Death Eater now, do we?” Hermione shouted.

            “Who’s to say he isn’t? He may be one, for all we know, but it still ties to what his motives are and that we can’t know for sure yet.” Harry reminded her.

            “So, what do we do?” Neville asked the hard-hitting question that was on Harry’s mind ever since he figured it all out. “We know it’s him and we know what his target is, but what do we do about it?” he continued.

            At this point, everyone turned to Harry for an answer, because they didn’t even consider taking action before, being too dumbfounded by their discovery to think about anything else.

            “ _We_ don’t do anything.” Harry concluded after a moment. “He’s clearly a dangerous wizard and he would take us down in nanoseconds. We can’t go after him.”

            “Then we tell Dumbledore.” Hermione tried. “If he saw all of this, if he knew about…”

            “He already knows.” Harry half realized, half admitted to the bushy haired girl.

            “WHAT?” Hannah roared in disbelief.

            “Think about it.” Harry stood up to get back the attention of the room on him rather than the screaming blonde. “If _I_ managed to discover this, then Dumbledore is already in the know for ages now. Snape didn’t just grab and threaten Quirrell out of thin air, he was under orders.” he continued.

            “But how would…” Hermione started, but Harry was already on a roll.

            “Quirrell knew about the troll before anyone else, had Defence with us just before the broom incident, was most likely missing the day Gringotts was broken into, and now after he was shoved around by Snape something happens to me that is yet again broom related? If Dumbledore didn’t have his suspicions before, he certainly does now.”

            “ _Then why isn’t he doing anything about it?_ ” Hannah accentuated every word that came out of her, clutching her phone so hard it was in danger of snapping in two.

            “He can’t.” Draco realised, upstaging Harry as the centre of attention. “While all of us _know_ he is responsible for all of this, we don’t exactly have any hard evidence to it, just circumstantial. He can argue that he had private matters to attend to while Gringotts had the break in, he isn’t obligated to come to the Halloween feast…”

            “And he shouted to the whole school about the dangerous mountain troll inside the castle at the time.” Hannah sighed and threw her hands in the air.

            “… And there is no actual way to implicate him in the broom incidents.” Draco finished his thought.

            “But all of it stacked together…!” Hermione tried, but Harry stopped her oncoming tirade.

            “Is just a series of _unfortunate_ coincidences that do not a case file for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement make.” he clicked his tongue in frustration at this whole thing. “ _I_ just put everything in place and connected the dots and while I appreciate your immediate trust, the Aurors won’t be so quick to believe me or even the Headmaster without serious facts.”

            Indeed, come to think of it, he was so caught up in figuring out who was trying to hurt him that he didn’t even think about the fact that he didn’t have the smallest thing to link Quirrell to it. He was beyond irked that he couldn’t do anything about it, and Hermione’s voice rang clear in his head, urging him to go to Dumbledore, but it simply wouldn’t change anything, other than the fact that he might get into trouble for knowing things he clearly shouldn’t. The Headmaster wouldn’t usually punish Harry for having sudden insight into things normal children have no business knowing about, but the fact remained that this was dangerous knowledge to have in the first place. Dumbledore would then absolutely try to do something just to keep Harry safe. And that won’t work and then it would just paint a bigger target on the green-eyed boy and most likely his friends. No, there had to be another way.

            “What I propose is this: we continue with our original plan.” Harry recovering from his train of thought. Looking out to his friends, it seemed like they were there somehow there with him while he was off arguing with himself in his head.

            “We find whatever is beyond the trapdoor.” Neville agreed determinedly.

            “And we keep it safe from Quirrell.” Hannah continued.

            “Right.” Harry clasped his hands together, in a much more cheerful mood than before. “Well, we have work to do and we can’t do it on an empty stomach.” He continued, echoing something uncle Vernon always said to him. Of course, that was always the man’s go-to excuse to grab the last cookie on the plate, earning him the trademarked side-eye of aunt Petunia.

            “Should we go to dinner while you two head back to the Slytherin Common Room for the party and then meet back here?” Hermione inquired.

            “Actually…” Harry started lamely, scratching the back of his neck and looking pointedly away. “I don’t want to go to the party.”

            “Are you daft?” Draco drawled out in his usual manner.

            “Besides the point, but go on.” Harry played along in the same tone.

            “Why would you miss your own victory party? It’s thanks to you that Slytherin won.” Hermione pipped in.

            “I just don’t feel like I have the energy to deal with everyone celebrating.” Harry shrugged. “I just want to hang out with you guys tonight. Like a… victory slumber party?” he tried.

            Everyone’s faces softened at this, to the way Harry was asking for company in a much shyer manner than his usual behaviour. They were, of course, more than happy to stick around.

            “Well, if we are staying here, I’m going to get to the kitchens and grab some food. While I’m there I’m going to ask some house elves to pack our overnight bags.” Hannah declared and started to make her way to the door. “See you guys later!”

            “Thank you, Hannah!” Neville said over his shoulder.

            “ _Oh, no you don’t_!” Draco protested and quickly caught up with the blonde girl, who stopped in her tracks dumbfounded. “The last time _you_ went for the food you purposely left out the chocolate eclairs I asked you for. I’m coming with.” he threatened in his no nonsense voice, staring down the girl.

            “I did no such thing, Malfoy!” she defended herself as they both started to walk at the same pace towards the exit, while their friends sat down in their respective seats, watching the exchange with sneaky smiles.

            “Yes, you did, because I made fun that _hideous_ butterfly hairclip you were wearing!” Draco retorted.

            “I have no idea what you mean.” Hannah stuck her nose in the air. “That is a priceless artefact from Helga Hufflepuff herself, passed down from generation to generation…”

            “It’s two sickles a piece in the kids’ section of the _Beauty Parlour_ in Diagon Alley.” Draco made a face as they reached the door.

            “Okay, fine! So what?” Hannah admitted in a huff of annoyance. “And how did you know?”

            “First of all, it’s _tacky_.” Draco rolled the words off his tongue as he instinctively opened the door for her. “Second of all, it had a barcode on the back.”

            “Oh, what do you know about fashion?” Hannah tutted as she left the Room and whatever response Draco had was muffled by his closing of the door behind him.

            Harry, Neville and Hermione shared a look between them before breaking the silence. They started howling with laughter after the two blonds left, holding on to themselves for dear life. Harry’s sides were hurting after a few minutes, but his discomfort far outweighed the benefits of letting himself go and laugh with his friends.

            “Are those two ever going to get along?” Hermione spoke between breaths, wiping away tears.

            “If they did, then I suspect it would be a sign of the Apocalypse.” Harry joked, while Neville cried for him to stop, before descending into another fit of laughter.

            True to his word, Draco returned minutes later with his favourite sweet and a grumbling Hannah that was carrying a duffle bag with her and the food. And even with all of the challenges ahead of them yet still, the five friends decided to have this one moment of respite to recharge their batteries.

            They spent the night making jokes, sharing stories of their childhood before Hogwarts, making fun of things on the Internet or watching movies on the smartboard. They were more than happy to momentarily let go of all their worries and just be normal children that don’t uncover conspiracies or take down mountain trolls in lavatories.

            In the dead of the night, Harry woke up suddenly to use the bathroom. After a quick run, he returned to the main part of the Room to see the amalgam of the hundreds of pillows and dozens of blankets. Among them were his friends in various positions of sleep, calm and peaceful, not on top of one another, but close enough that they could feel each other’s warmth. He watched them with a strange feeling in his heart as they dreamed away.

            He was thankful for them, more than he could express it. He had friends growing up, sure, but none of them were like these guys, that challenge him to be better, to strive for more. They bicker and mock each other mercilessly sometimes but Harry would be lost without them, with nothing to ground him. If it weren’t for them, he would’ve gone for Quirrell immediately and likely would’ve been dead. If it weren’t for them, Harry would have just accepted his death a few hours before. But the image of them and his relatives rang clear into his mind and pulled him back.

            He went to the balcony and opened the glass doors for some air, but it seemed that the cold wasn’t going to seep in the Room, as it had some kind of temperature regulator. Stepping outside, he felt the chill air of November hitting his face and the breeze through his hair. It was quiet, save for the trees of the Forbidden Forrest to his right that danced and produced the most calming of sounds. In front of him was the Black Lake, reflecting some of the pale moonlight that was visible through the cloudy sky and to the left Harry could see the Astronomy tower, standing tall and unwavering. And all around, energy, _magic_. Hogwarts was usually teeming with magical energy during the day from all the students and teachers that were using it, but now it was subdued, almost like it was resting, waiting for a new day. He took a few deep breaths, taking it all in, letting the magic of the place pour into his skin, washing over him.

            “Harry?” said a voice from behind the boy, somewhat startling him.

            Neville stood in front of the open doors, still sleepy with a blanket over his shoulders. He immediately woke up fully after a second and ran towards the other boy.

            “What are you doing?” he cried, putting the blanket over Harry as well. “You are going to freeze to death!” he admonished the green-eyed boy, who now was aware of the fact that he was shivering before Neville rescued him from pneumonia.

            “Sorry.” Harry sheepishly replied. “Didn’t realise.” he scooted closer to Neville and _was he always this warm_?

            “What are you doing out here?” Neville asked as he grabbed Harry by the shoulder to get him closer to a heat source.

            “Just thinking. Enjoying the view.” Harry said, feeling his teeth on the verge of chattering.

            “Are you…Alright?” Neville tried.

            Harry suddenly cursed the other boy’s intuition, but reminded himself that it was one of the best things about him.

            “Honestly, Nev?” Harry admitted in a small voice. “I’m terrified. I don’t know what Quirrell is trying to achieve, but he clearly wants me out of the picture. And he doesn’t care if he hurts you or the others in the process. You’re my friends, I don’t want anything happening to you and I don’t want to drag you into this and I feel guilty that _I am_ dragging you into this mess.” Harry finished without pausing for breath.

            “Harry, you saved each of our lives.” Neville smiled at him. “More than once for some.” he joked, making Harry chuckle. “You aren’t _forcing_ us into anything, we are coming with. You might be the Boy-Who-Lived and have all of this awesome power that we can’t begin to understand, but you still need us, just like we need you.”

            “But putting you in danger…” Harry tried once more, but Neville wouldn’t have it.

            “Is our _choice_ to be with you, even if it sometimes means we’re getting into trouble. We trust you, Harry, and we all care about you. Even Malfoy, though he would deny it until he dies.” Neville laughed.

            Harry smiled at the blue-eyed boy and scooted even closer to him. He instinctively reached out with his hand to grab Neville’s and the other boy grasped it without a word. They stood like that for a few more minutes, in silence, looking out at the scenery, just enjoying each other’s company.

            They headed back in after a while, and even though Neville went to sleep almost immediately, Harry’s mind was still preoccupied with everything that had been going on.

            Whatever Quirrell’s goal was, and whatever the artefact turned out to be, there was one thing that still nagged at him: what was _Dumbledore’s_ plan? He never struck Harry as a man without a plan in any situation, so there had to be something that he was waiting for. But for what? Catching the Defence Professor in the act? But it was risky, someone (Harry) could get hurt before then, and Dumbledore wouldn’t sacrifice Harry or any other student just to catch one man. No, it had to be something else.

            _Just what is your game, old man?_

 

            The weeks leading up to Christmas seemed to have simply flown by the gang. They were so deep into studying for their classes, trying to find out what was beyond the trapdoor and keeping clear of Quirrell without making it noticeable. And while their grades never suffered and the turban wearing menace didn’t do anything else, they were still no closer to finding out who Nicholas Flamel was or what his connection to Dumbledore meant. Which frustrated Harry to no end, because he was sure he heard that name before, but just couldn’t place it.

            “We could borrow Dumbledore’s Pensive.” Hannah said at lunch on a Wednesday, halfway through the month. “And I know what you’re going to say, you can’t remember when you heard it and we can’t exactly comb through _all_ of your memories. But we don’t have to, we just have to go through everything since you came to Hogwarts and before Hagrid let it slip. That’s just three months!” she declared.

            “I like how you skipped over the part that Dumbledore would just _hand_ over his Pensive to me just like that.” Harry laughed into his French fries.

            “Oh, right.” Hannah stared into space. “Well, can we get a hold of one?” she tried once more.

            “I tried.” Draco said from her right, not looking away from his phone. “It costs an enormous amount of money.” he continued in his bored tone.

            “The four of you _are_ putridly rich.” Hermione spoke from behind her laptop screen while she was teaching Neville how to utilise it.

            “And no access to the entirety of our family’s main vault.” Draco continued as he scrolled on Handprint and drank his juice.

            “How much could it be?” Hannah asked, irritated.

            “How about a few tens of thousands of galleons.” Draco met her eyes.

            “Shite.” Hannah huffed, lowering herself in her seat dejectedly.

            “Quite.” Harry agreed. “And even then, it would take too long. I suggest we wait until Christmas holiday, get out of the castle’s range and _then_ search for it. In the meantime, we might get lucky in the library.”

            “Oh, we’ve been up, down, sideways and in circles in there!” Hannah complained, dramatically. “There’s nothing useful in those books!” she continued, ignoring how Hermione was suddenly typing harder on her keyboard in reaction to the blonde’s words.

            “Maybe…” Draco started, putting his phone down. “Longbottom!” Draco called the other boy. “How did you get to the Restricted Section again?”

            “Absolutely _not_!” Hermione put the screen down on her computer, nearly catching poor Neville’s fingers in the process. “You heard the other students, Madame Pince knows someone manged to get inside there without permission and now she watches the place like a hawk.” she glared at the occupants of the table, who suddenly wanted to disappear from the scary witch threatening them.

            “Then we go when she _isn’t_ watching.” Hannah tried to be clever. “Even with her, Filch and security cameras, there’s got to be an opening sometime.”

            “Well, if you suddenly developed the ability to turn invisible at will…” Hermione trailed off while everyone turned to look expectantly at Harry, who was in the process of chewing his fries.

            “Don’t look at me!” Harry defended himself against the collective stare-down as he swallowed his food. “I’m still trying to lift myself off the ground for more than an inch, let alone find a way to turn invisible.”

            “Harry’s sudden admittance of levitation abilities aside,” Hermione started, slowly turning her gaze from the raven-haired boy back to Hannah, “It would be too risky. Neville could’ve just have been lucky the door was somehow open beforehand. It could’ve been Quirrell and Snape for all we know. They were inside, after all.” Hermione pointed out.

            At this, Hannah finally gave up her plan and decided to impale her food with her cutlery in a rather aggressive manner.

            “Can you really fly off the ground?” Neville spoke to Harry after a few tense moments.

            “Just float above the floor for a few moments, and _barely_. It’s kind of tricky to suspend my entire body. But who knows? Maybe sometime in the future, I can indeed fly.” Harry explained with a smile.

            “Or you could just use your broom. That could work.” Draco drawled out in an attempt to be funny.

            “But how could I, seeing as it’s currently in use as the stick up your arse.” Harry replied in a nonchalant way that earned him a shot with a fry from Draco’s plate. He dodged it easily, and made it fly into his mouth before it hit the ground while winking at the other boy, making everyone snicker.

            Later that week, Harry received a call from aunt Petunia. He was expecting it, of course, as he usually chatted with his family once a week. What he didn’t foresee, unfortunately, was the contents of the said call.

            “I have just received some bad news.” Harry declared as he entered the Room Saturday morning. His friends immediately stopped whatever they were doing, waiting for a continuation. “Aunt Petunia called to say that my uncle’s sister, aunt Marge, had inexplicably fallen ill and that she most likely won’t make it to our home in Surrey in time for Christmas.”

            “So?” Hermione spoke from her seat on the couch with several tomes around her and her devices floating in mid-air in her range. “What’s the bad news here? She’ll stay at home and you’ll have an entire holiday free of her.”

            “Oh, no.” Harry intoned as he made way to his armchair and dropped in it unceremoniously. “She’s _insisting_ that we come over to her and while aunt Petunia and Dudley protested, uncle Vernon gave in. And not for a few days, _oh no, sir_ , for a full bloody week! Said she misses her little ‘Duddykins’ far too much to just see him for only a couple of days this year.”

            “Wait…” Draco started as he took out the other earphone he left in place when Harry entered. “Is she the one with the…”

            “Yes.” Harry sighed, looking at the celling, trying not to explode.

            “With the dog breeding…” Hannah remembered.

            “Yep.” Harry popped on the ‘p’.

            “And the colonel romance thing…” Neville pipped in.

            “The very same.” Harry rubbed his face.

            A moment of silence followed, as the information sank in. And then…

            “Well you obviously can’t go!” Hermione shrilled. “You can’t spend the entire time of your school holiday dodging that nutty woman!”

            “Petunia was way ahead of you.” Harry replied as he met her indignant stare. “She did that thing parents do when they give you options to choose from to make you feel more independent, but they strongly hint one is better than the other. What she forgets is that she got that from the child psychology book _I_ lent to her using my library card.”

            “Of course you read child psychology books in your spare time.” Hannah rolled her eyes.

            “I wanted to understand why boys were mean to girls that they liked. I mean, why not just be _nice_? Anyway,” Harry backtracked “I have to go, even if that means it would be pure torture for a _week_. I have to get out of the castle towers’ range and search for that blasted Flamel guy!”

            “No, you don’t.” Hermione went to sit on the arm pad of Harry’s chair. “I’m still going with my parents to France this holiday, I can do it. You should do as your aunt suggested and stay here for Christmas. I know you wanted to find out and more importantly spend time with your family, but I know how that woman behaves towards you and clearly your aunt and uncle won’t mind if you skip this one out.”

            “And you’ll have us as company.” Neville shrugged. “I can’t show up with my phone at home, Draco’s father wouldn’t be happy if he started using it at home and Hannah…” he trailed off, looking at the girl. “Hang on, was your excuse again?” he narrowed his eyes.

            “Harry’s not the only one with relatives that he can’t stand. Great Uncle Birch and Great Aunt Artinia _will just not stop_ pestering me about my child-making future, among other things. As if I would ever push a watermelon sized, crying and nappy filling _thing_ out of my phoenix nest.” Hannah closed the book she was holding as she went into her into one of her tirades. “And they keep bringing up suitors. _Suitors_! Do they not know I am not even bloody twelve yet? It’s like the smell of oncoming period blood just awakens their need for heirs, _I mean honestly_!” she finished, panting at this point.

            “That answers your question?” Hermione smirked at poor Neville, who was paler than the Bloody Baron at this point and could only simply nod, still watching Hannah fearfully, while Draco was inconspicuously hiding his face behind his laptop. “So, Harry,” she returned to the matter at hand “are you okay with just me going away?” she asked.

            Harry thought for a moment before answering.

            “I’ll miss you.” he said in lieu of a response.

            “Oh, Harry, I will miss you guys too!” she cooed as she hugged Harry something fierce and kissed the top of his head.

 

            It was too soon that the 23rd arrived and they had to momentarily say goodbye to Hermione for the time being, as she stood on the platform in Hogsmeade and hugged them all. Every student that was going home for the holidays was already inside by the time they finished with their farewells. Hermione was quickly shooed in by the conductor, as they had to leave, but not before she would make them promise that they would stay out of trouble, one green-eyed boy in particular. Harry, Neville, Hannah and Draco waved at the train as it pulled out of the station and left a trail of smoke behind, disappearing into the hills on that bleak morning.

            “How much do you want to bet she’s refreshing her web browser as we speak?” Draco quipped as they trekked back to the castle.

            “Five galleons say it’s at least three times a minute.” Hannah said behind her golden scarf.

            “You two are horrible sometimes, I swe-…” Harry laughed, but quickly stopped as a cold, white flake touched his red nose and quickly disappeared.

            They all looked up in anticipation to see that it had begun to snow, lightly, but with the wind picking up, it was bound to become a full storm in the matter of minutes and they were still a long way from the entrance doors.

            “I _told_ you we should’ve brought our cold wear!” Hannah side-eyed Draco as they picked up the pace, trying to fight the oncoming shivers. Indeed, they weren’t lightly dressed, but it wasn’t enough to warrant being out in the snow for long.

            “Don’t blame me, blame the forecast! It didn’t say anything about _this_!” Draco retorted.

            “Nobody can fully predict the weather, Draco. Science isn’t always exact, you know.” Harry tried to smooth things over.

            “Then what is the point of it?!” Draco tutted and rolled his eyes.

            “ _Quiet_!” hissed Neville in a very uncharacteristic manner. “I’m trying to concentrate. _Incendio…”_ he whispered, bringing his hands together like he was holding an invisible bowl, but he could only produce a few sparks that quickly dissipated. “Oh, crud. Why isn’t it working? _Incendio_!” he tried again, unsuccessfully.

            “Here, let me do it, Nev.” Harry offered, calmly.

            “Please, do. I’m rubbish at this spell.” Neville pouted, giving up, as Harry caressed the other boy’s shoulder in sympathy.

            “ _Incendio._ ” Harry whispered as the flames appeared between his hands, dancing merrily into the empty space his palms created. The warmth quickly spread over him and he moved himself so that Draco was to his right and Hannah to the left, while Neville was in front of him. “Draco, think you could manipulate some of the snow around us so that we don’t end up soggy?” he asked as the weather continued to worsen by the second.

            “I could try, although I haven’t practiced it much.” Draco admitted as he tried to divert it by holding his hand on level with his chin and moving his wrist in a slow, circular manner. He seemed to have succeeded somewhat, as most of the snowflakes seemed to suddenly go around them, as if hitting an invisible air current in the shape of a dome.

            “You know, if you could find someone to train you with your Elemental abilities, you could go far.” Hannah remarked, looking around with a sense of wonder.

            “No such luck, I’m afraid.” Draco lamented with a huff. “The last Elemental died decades ago and she was an Air type. And until me there has been no-one else.”

            “Wouldn’t that make you… I don’t know, an incredibly _exceptional_ wizard? To be the only Elemental in the world?” Harry interjected.

            “How is that news?” Draco sneered, but everyone could see this was somehow eating at him.

            “Must be lonely.” Neville remarked, looking at Draco sadly.

            “Yeah.” the blond replied, without looking at him.

             They didn’t speak until they reached the Room after that, too awkward to say anything else. The fact that Draco Malfoy felt so out of place, so singular, made everyone rethink their perspectives of the boy. Harry himself felt a great deal of empathy toward him.

            “You’re not alone, you know.” Harry spoke to Draco in private on their way to the Slytherin Common Room later that night. “I know how it is to be so out of the norm that it makes you feel isolated, not like the rest. But you don’t have to be like the rest. You just have to be you.”

            “I know, Harry.” Draco made a sad smile towards the other boy. “Thank you.” he continued as Harry just pulled him into a side hug and entered the Common Room.

           

            On Christmas day, Harry awoke to a sizable pile of presents at the foot of his bed. He got up late, something that was unusual to him. His fellow year mates were already dressed and walking, talking amongst themselves and eating chocolate. Gregory and Vincent were quietly laughing at something they received from back home, while Theodore was writing a letter, most likely to his parents.

            “Oh, and he decides to grace us with his presence!” Blaise stopped his conversation with Draco, looking at Harry amused.

            “And be grateful that I did.” Harry said in response, placing his best bored face on, but made sure Blaise’s gaze was somewhere else when he winked at Draco playfully. “Merry Christmas.”

            “Merry Christmas!” was the polite response he got out of the room.

            “I’ll leave you two lovebirds be.” Blaise declared, looking at Harry and Draco pointedly. “I have to send some replies out. Excuse me.” and with that he left.

            “How come everyone from our dorm is here on Christmas?” Harry asked in a low tone as he sat down Draco’s bed and plopped one of the candies in his mouth from the already open box sitting on the mattress.

            “Probably under orders to keep an eye on you, find out why you chose to stay.” Draco shrugged and ate a Bertie Bott’s Every Flavoured Bean. “Oh, plum!” he joyfully added.

            “Could’ve swore that was a booger one.” Harry grinned impertinently.

            “Now why would they make essence of _you_?” Draco retorted with his usual sneer.

            “Oh, so you _have_ tasted me before.” Harry played along.

            “Clever comeback. Also, gross.” Draco scrunched up his face, but Harry just laughed it off. “Do you want to get a look at your presents?” he changed the subject.

            “In a bit.” Harry breathed, trying to get the last sleep out of his eyes. “Did you get a look at yours?”

            “Yes, and thank you for this.” Draco smiled and procured the _Introduction into Informatics_ from the pile of destroyed wrapping paper. “I managed to browse it a little, it helps clear out a lot of things.”

            “I suppose I could’ve gotten you some new device to tinker with, but you already have top of the line, I wasn’t about to _insult_ you with something on the lower end.” Harry joked as he got up from the bed and made his way to his pile.

            It was the usual sweets and books from the Dursley’s, along with a note from them that apologised that they could not see each other this Christmas and that they missed him terribly. Harry reminded himself to call them later today, as this was the first time he was not in aunt Petunia’s kitchen, setting down the table for Christmas day breakfast and shared a glass of eggnog with uncle Vernon and Dudley when Petunia wasn’t looking.

            Hermione and Draco managed to coordinate, as the bushy haired girl had gotten him a moleskin agenda in his favourite colour and the blond had given him a luxury fountain pen that would Transfigure air particles around it into ink, so it never run out. The present from Hannah was an envelope containing a note that said ‘ _Since I know you were interested’_ and a QR code that Harry scanned, revealing itself to be a download link for one of Helga Hufflepuff’s famous cookbooks. Only this one seemed to be the family edition, not available to the general public. And lastly, they were the gifts from Neville and Hagrid. Neville got him a dark green scarf made out of nice, soft material. It changed colours if Harry swiped it with his palm. Hagrid got him a flute, and while Harry considered himself a mediocre singer at best and had not talent on the instruments, he noticed that the object seemed to have been _carved_ , carefully, meticulously and thoroughly.

            There was one thing at the bottom of the pile that Harry failed to notice before. He was perplexed, trying to figure out if he missed someone, but was patient enough until everybody save for Draco left the dorm to try and open it.

            It was a light package, even though it’s volume suggested otherwise. There was a note on the front, written in cursive.

            _‘Your father left this in my possession before he died. It’s time I returned it to you. Use it well.’_

            There was no name signed, and no other card inside the package. But the contents, now that was what interested Harry more. His present turned out to be a cloak of some type. He put it on his shoulders, but stipulated that even if he put on his head it would cover all of him. Of course, if it _was_ his father’s then it would be larger than cloaks meant for an eleven-year-old boy. The material felt light, silvery, like water running softly through his hands.

            “Gaaahhhh!” someone screamed behind Harry, making him jump and turn around, prepared to defend himself. Draco stood at the foot of his bed, on the floor, taken aback by something, horrified beyond words.

            “What? _What_?!” Harry yelled, looking around the room frantically, prepared to defend them, but there was nothing there. Harry noted that Draco was looking towards _him_.

            “Your… your body!” the other boy managed to get out. It was _gone_! It was just your head floating through the air!” the blond boy accused.

            “What are you talking about?” Harry shook his head and sighed.

            “I swear, it was like you…” Draco started to recover, but then looked at the floor where Harry was standing. “Look! Your left leg! It disappeared!” he shouted, pointing at Harry, who frankly was tired of all the confusion.

            But looking down, the boy discovered that Draco was right. His left leg seemed to have blended in to the aether, because _it wasn’t there_. He stood like that for a few moments, trying to process this, to come up with a reason. His first ridiculous thought was how he was going to explain to aunt Petunia that he was suddenly only one-legged. But he could still stand without falling over, could still _feel_ his missing leg. He tried moving it forward and found that it was still there after all. It reappeared after the cloak that got caught under his foot was let go.

            Draco and Harry exchanged equally confused looks, eyebrows raised up and unblinking.

            “So… you _can_ turn invisible at will.” Draco managed to say.

            “Not _me_ , Draco, _this_!” Harry exclaimed as he took of his cloak and showed it to the boy.

            “Holy mother of Merlin.” the blond took a deep breath, as he got closer to inspect the object. “It’s an Invisibility Cloak. I’ve heard about these. They are incredibly rare and expensive. Whoever gave this to you must have a lot of spending money.” he remarked as he inspected the material.

            “The note didn’t say who is from, just that it once belonged to my father.” said Harry.

            “That can’t be right.” Draco turned to look at his friend, eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

            “Why is that?” Harry was taken aback.

            “Because normally, after a while, Invisibility Cloaks turn slightly translucent, even barely hiding the user after continuous use. They’re made from Demiguise hair and no amount of preservation spells would stop the invisibility proprieties from fading eventually.” the blond explained. “The Demiguise hair in it degrades and you can’t revive dead tissue without live one.”

            “You’re awfully well informed.” Harry remarked.

            “Witchypedia wormholes. What can you do?” Draco shrugged.

            “Right.” Harry drawled out. “Well, maybe this was made for my father when my parents went into hiding and hasn’t been used since. It may be the reason why it works so well even now.” he theorised.

            “Maybe, but… I don’t know, Harry, ten years is a long time for one of these things to sit around and not lose one ounce of its magical proprieties.” Draco shook his head.

             “Never mind that, it works and it should prove very useful.” Harry concluded. “Any word from Hermione yet?”

            “No.” Draco sighed, dejected. “Last time she sent a message through VTrunk was yesterday, saying she was on her way to the airport with her parents. After that, nothing.” he said as he browsed his phone. “Also, just _what_ did you give Longbottom for Christmas?” the blond laughed.

            “Ah. I was wondering if he woke up.” Harry replied mysteriously and made his phone fly into his hands. They were a few messages here and there, some social media notifications, but Harry was more interested in the group chat.

            _Neville @Scarheads: HARRISON JAMESON POTTER ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!?!?!?!_ 8:23 A.M.

_Draco @Scarheads: It’s actually just ‘James’, Longbottom, his middle name is his father’s first name. And why are you yelling at this early hour?_ 8:26 A.M.

            _Neville @Scarheads: Tell sleeping beauty I’ll have a word with him when he wakes up._ 8:26 A.M.

            _Hannah @Scarheads: Are you okay?_ 8:29 A.M.

            _Draco @Scarheads: Sleeping beauty?_ _Careful with the compliments, Longbottom, people might get the wrong idea._ 8:30 A.M.

            _Neville @Scarheads: Cuff him on the head, Malfoy._ 10:49 A.M.

            _‘Hang on…’_ Harry thought, frowning at his screen. _‘That was sent out less than a minute ago.’_ His online status was displayed as _Available_ , which would make Neville able to see that Harry was reading his messages, which in turn meant…

            “ _Ow_!” Harry complained at a snickering Draco. “Why did you do that for? You don’t even know what I got him!” he rubbed his head.

            “Any excuse to knock you down a peg or two.” Draco replied innocently.

            Harry frowned, deciding his course of action. He flicked two fingers in the other boy’s direction, making his shirt go all the way on his head, covering his face. The shrieked that followed was glorious, Harry was upset he didn’t manage to capture it on video.

            “Come on, we’re going to miss breakfast.” Harry sighed as Draco still tried to fight his pyjamas.

            The Great Hall was decorated beautifully, a dozen Christmas trees taller than houses standing at the back of where the Head Table used to be, snow falling lightly from the ceiling and hundreds of candles floating about. But what it truly made it look like Christmas wasn’t the tinsel or the pretty baubles. No, it was the gathering at the only circular table left in the Hall. The Heads of Houses and the Headmaster were sitting around, talking amongst themselves. They all laughed loudly at something Dumbledore said, minus Snape, as something as silly as _giggling_ was beneath him.

            This was what made Christmas special, in Harry’s opinion. Friends and family sitting down, having a nice meal and genuinely enjoying it. Or pretending to suffer but still having fun in Snape’s case.

            “Ah, Draco, Harry!” Dumbledore greeted them as they approached the table. “Merry Christmas!”

            “Merry Christmas, Professors!” Harry and Draco replied at the same time.

            “We thought since so very few of us are left in the castle we could have our Christmas meal at one table.” the aging Headmaster explained. Snape mumbled something under his breath, likely about being coerced into this, but Dumbledore ignored him.

            “I thought our dorm mates would be here.” Draco tried, not quite looking everyone in the eye.

            “Oh, they ate before we did.” Professor Sprout added, taking a sip of her brandy. “But I thought miss Abbott was still here on holidays. Where is she?” she asked the two boys.

            Before they could respond, however, the oak doors opened, revealing a still flustered Neville and a smiling Hannah. They sat down with their friends and Professors, but it was obvious that Neville wanted to talk to Harry in private, given the looks he was shooting the green-eyed boy over the table, and sending a message would’ve been rude.

            But they enjoyed a pleasant meal with their teachers nonetheless. It turned out Dumbledore was quite the party host, as he never let anyone be too distracted for long. He had the almost unlikely sense of humour for someone his age, mostly poking fun at himself and the many silly mistakes he made during his youth and some in his adult life. It was almost humanising, the way this powerful figure in the wizarding world was just a man at the end of the day. Harry felt he could understand that, given that he was seen as the saviour of this generation, like Dumbledore was considered for the one before, but Harry was still just a child after all.

            “…and then I said to the Magical Chancellor of Germany that his tie was crooked. I thought he was going to burst into flames on the spot.” Dumbledore finished reciting one of his stories from the International Confederacy of Wizards.

            “So _that’s_ how you became Supreme Mugwump ten years ago.” Professor Flitwick noted with amusement.

            “I have no idea what you mean, Fillius.” Dumbledore took a sip of his coffee, trying to appear innocent.

            “The man is incapable of thinking he looks anything less than perfect, he has an ego the size of this room.” Flitwick replied with a sly grin. “You knew that by telling him that in the middle of his argument he would sputter and forget what he was supposed to say, making you win the debate.”

            “ _No_.” breathed a shocked Professor McGonagall, putting a hand on her chest, turning to look at Dumbledore, who was now very interested in the fake snow from the enchanted celling, but her smile betrayed her true emotions. “Albus, you did _not_!” she accentuated every word.

            “Oh, please, Professor Dumbledore would’ve won that election anyway.” Hannah spoke, while forking her food, making everyone look at her. “The vote was 164 to 29, not even a little slip-up during preliminary arguments from Magical Chancellor Rodrick would’ve made him lose by _that_ much.”

            The girl raised her eyes from her plate to see that everyone was watching her with interest. Snape even gave on the pretence of ignoring everyone and was now looking like someone told his son wanted to do ballet.

            “I’ve… uh, read the court transcripts and watched the video. Amelia, _ahem_ , sorry, miss Bones, Susan Bones’ aunt, sometimes sends me things like that. She’s a family friend.” she finished lamely.

            “Quite.” Dumbledore laughed, breaking the tension. “Hannah is right, of course, the only thing I did was show that he was a man that only care about appearances, something many of the representatives of the member states already knew.”

            “And of course, you didn’t _influence_ the thing that started the incident.” Professor Snape spoke for the first time, making McGonagall jump slightly in her seat from shock. Harry and Draco snickered behind their hands, ignoring the side-eye from the stern teacher. “How does the tie of a man, a perfectionist in every way possible, _suddenly_ go askew?” Snape asked, hardly concealing his suspicions.

            “Well…” Dumbledore measured his words carefully. “I suppose _accidents_ can happen.” he winked discretely at Harry.

            “Accidental magic only happens in young, untrained magical children.” Flitwick raised an eyebrow.

            “Maybe I am a child at heart, Fillius.” Dumbledore remarked, checking his buzzing phone.

            “Right. Which House were you in, again?” Flitwick crossed his arms.

            “That would be telling.” Dumbledore joked, barely casting his gaze on the other Professor before resuming his phone tapping. “Now, I’m sorry to cut this lovely meal short, but it appears I have other business to attend to. Minerva, I must ask you to supervise the castle while I’m away today. And before you get any ideas,” and this is where he looked over his half-moon glasses with a stern expression at McGonagall, who suddenly felt like a schoolgirl again, “no, you won’t find my student records in my office.” he finished before smiling again. “Good day to you all.”

            He promptly left the table with McGonagall shortly following. Snape grumbled something about grading papers for sixth years and Fillius had a marathon to catch.

            “Professor, wasn’t Professor Dumbledore in Gryffindor?” Hannah asked her Head of House as the latter was getting up to go to her office.

            “We don’t actually know.” she admitted. “He never tells us and people who knew him from his youth just laugh when asked. All two of them.” she continued for no one in particular. “Have a nice day, children!” she bid the goodbye as they returned her sentiment.

            “Odd.” remarked Draco at the retreating form of the Herbology teacher. “You’d think somebody would know the House the Headmaster was in.”

            “Is it _really_ that important?” Harry argued.

            “Maybe, maybe not. Certainly says something about him as a character…” Draco replied but was interrupted by Neville.

            “Speaking of.” he started dangerously as soon as the Sprout closed the door. “What were you thinking!?” he exploded at Harry.

            “I take it this is about my gift to you?” the green-eyed boy made a half smile.

            “Yes it’s about your bloody gift!” Neville continued irately. “You can’t just…”

            “What? Give you a laptop?” Harry added innocently.

            “A _what_?” Draco nearly choked on his orange juice.

            Neville brought out the object in question from his bag, and while his fury was visibly present, he still carefully placed it on the table in front of them. The laptop was the same make and model as Harry’s and Draco’s, only the front was pure red, with the Gryffindor insignia on it and the letters _N.L._ underneath.

“Oh, he got you one too!” Hannah exclaimed.

            “Sorry?” Neville broke out of his anger.

            “Here.” she offered, showing the one Harry brought her, with her own Hogwarts House insignia, colours and initials on the back of the screen.

            “Look, before you get any angrier, I wanted you to have it so that you we won’t have to do that song and dance where you refuse to share one with us, because you have this idea that you’re not worth the time to get our heads of computer screens five minutes for, our _friend_.” Harry put an arm on the other boy, calming him. “This isn’t charity, that would imply that your financial status wouldn’t offer you the chance to have this, it is just a gift.”

            “But I _don’t_ have the financial status to buy one of these!” Neville made his case.

            “No, you don’t have _access_ to it, there’s a difference.” Harry pointed at Neville while holding his cup of tea.

            “But I…” the blue-eyed boy tried again, but Harry would have none of it.

            “Are just going to accept the fact that I have no qualms about making expensive gifts to my friends whenever I feel like it and it also helps you with your school work as well.” he noted with finality.

            “Thank you, Harry.” said Hannah, while Neville was blushing furiously. “I tinkered around with it for a bit, it works wonderfully compared to my old one.” she politely said to her friend.

            “It started making noise, it bothered me, I came up with a solution.” Harry shrugged nonchalantly, but Hannah would get the idea.

            “Say thank you, Neville.” Hannah admonished the boy.

            “Thank you, Neville.” he replied sarcastically, earning him shove from Hannah, before finally smiling for the first time that day. “No, but really, thank you Harry, I mean it. Nobody has ever gone above and beyond for me like this, it really means something.” he finished with a sad smile. “My grandma’s going to freak when she sees this.” he laughed, shaking his head.

            “She’s not going to. I also gave you a school sack that’s bigger on the inside to hide your things in. It has a Featherlight Charm on it. Also, it shrinks for some reason.” Harry explained.

            “Yes, yes, we are all friends and we care about each other and we are grateful, blah, blah, blah!” Draco interrupted the proceedings.

            “Your specially made lid in hidden at the back of the book I gave you.” Harry turned to his Slytherin friend, who perked up immediately. “Tap it twice with your fingers and it should return to its original size. Then apply it to your laptop, it will place itself on the lid with a Sticking Charm.” he revealed.

            “I…Well, that’s…” Draco stumbled upon his words, going red at the tips of his ears.

            “Say thank you, Draco.” Harry repeated Hannah’s words, using the same tone.

            “Shut up.” Draco playfully bumped shoulders with the boy, making everyone laugh, but the huge, beaming smile on his face showed that he was actually more than grateful for the gift. It was the thought behind it, actually, that Harry truly included him in his group, that made him happy.

            “Alright, now that we’re done with that, we have some important things to take care of.” Harry declared, putting an end to the silly stuff. “Hermione isn’t answering for some reason and we have to find just what the hell Dumbledore is hiding on the third-floor corridor.”

            “Are you suggesting that we go under the trapdoor?” Hannah inquired.

            “No, at least not until we absolutely have to. I have recently acquired something that would help us locate more information on the artefact.”

            “Oh, you are _devious_.” Draco chuckled darkly as the other two friends both gave Harry strange looks.

            “Of course I am” Harry smirked, his mind already laying out the plan.

            “What are you going to do?” Neville sighed.

            “Break into the Restricted Section, what else?” Harry took a sip of his tea, while Hannah choked on her water and spew it all over the table in surprise.

           

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Sorry it took so long, again, but my laptop's HDD died and I had to replace it. And then it took me forever to make the touchpad on it work as intended, instead of using an external mouse. Something about proper driver signing (I personally blame Microsoft and its bugs on Windows 8.1). This is sort of a short chapter, mostly filled with dialogue. I wanted to get to the discovery of Flamel, the chapter surely started out like that, but along the way, the characters had more and more chances to talk with each other and have a moment of pause, which of course turned into this. I stopped it where I thought it was best, because if I continued, it would've been two chapters into one. Do not worry, even with work and school, I will continue to update this. Already starting the next chapter as we speak.  
> Until next time, yours truly, Dorian.


	11. The Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Hermione suddenly out of touch, the rest of the gang prepares a plan to find out the truth once and for all.

 

 

            Later that day, Harry, Neville, Draco and Hannah were all gathered in the Room, watching the smartboard intently. Harry laid out the plan for them: he was supposed to get to the Restricted Section with the aid of the Invisibility Cloak. But he was prepared to do it right, to make sure he didn’t get caught. So, they spent the day taking pictures of hallways and some of the secret pathways they always managed to find and drew them on Harry’s _Titan_ device, now turned into a tablet for its large screen. Because they didn’t have a map of Hogwarts, this was the best way for them to chart their routes to the library. Along their way, they managed to place motion detector sensors and cameras that Harry still had from when they secured the entrance to the Room. This way, they could see if someone would cross Harry’s path beforehand and warn the boy.

            “Alright.” Harry said after reviewing the specifics. “All cameras and detectors are online.” he said as he scrolled the board with his hand in the air. “They should alert you should anyone come in my direction.”

            “Your signal is good.” Hannah noted, looking at her new computer. “As long as there is no interference, we should see your location. Nice work with placing our drawn map on the Google one, Malfoy.” she praised the blond.

            “Please, it was so easy.” Draco waved her off, but Harry knew it must’ve taken him all afternoon to work that one out, given the number of tabs open on his computer.

            “Okay, let’s test the handsfree device.” Harry said as he put the small Bluetooth earpiece in and walked to the other side of the Room. He called Neville’s number, who responded after two rings. “Testing, testing, one, two, three.” he tried in his normal voice.

            “Loud and clear!” shouted Hannah as Harry returned to them and ended the call. “Here, the spell I found _could_ in theory muffle some of the sounds you make, including footsteps and talking, but I’m not sure I can make it work fully, or even know that it does, so be light on your feet and don’t talk too loud.” she instructed her friend as she showed him the page on her phone.

            “Take this camera with you, so we can see what you see.” Neville handed Harry one of the small cameras. The boy placed it on his shirt, making it blend with his two buttons at the collar.

            “I hope you see well enough through the Cloak.” Harry sighed, gathering his resolve. “Alright, let’s do this. Everybody ready?” he asked, receiving curt nods, before putting the cloak on and waiting for Hannah to do her thing.

            “ _Murmuro._ ” she intoned, drawing a short line with her hand then pushing with it in Harry’s direction. There was the sound of a strange whisper before something like translucent air washed over the invisible Harry, before disappearing in the next half second. Harry called Neville’s cell again.

            “Can you still hear me?” his voice could be heard over the speaker.

            “I can hear _you_ speaking, if just barely.” Draco replied as he was closest to Harry’s invisible form, looking somewhere just over the green-eyed boy’s left shoulder. “Abbott was right, don’t talk too loud.”

            “Be careful, Harry.” Neville looked where Draco was looking as well.

            “I will, don’t worry.” his voice came from the speaker as he started to leave.

            “Good luck!” Hannah wished him.

            Outside the Room it was quiet, even more so now that Harry was hyperalert of everything around him.  He started to make his way to the library as fast as he could while walking quietly.

            “ _I still don’t understand why we couldn’t do this from our dorm.”_ Draco’s voice could be heard in the device in Harry’s ear. _“It is_ closer _, after all._ ”

            “The added threat of Snape at the door far outweighs the extra floor I have to cross.” Harry reminded him, trying to whisper while making sure the microphone picked him up.

            _“Right.”_ Draco conceded. _“Remember to take a left at the junction in front of you. The door to the Grand Staircase on the right squeaks like hell.”_

            “Yes.” Harry complied, mentally thanking the blond for reminding him before his instincts kicked in and took a right on his usual path. “Any word from Hermione yet?” he asked as he walked on the seventh-floor corridor, trying not to wake the portraits.

            _“No, and any call we make goes straight to voicemail. Should we try Hedwig?”_ Neville spoke.

            “No. Let’s give it until the morning. If she doesn’t say anything by 9, then we send Hedwig.” Harry decided.

            In truth, he was getting worried about his friend. This was most unlike her, to not be unreachable. Usually, she always had her phone or laptop close at hand to search some new piece of information as soon as she got wind of it, so her not responding to any of her messages or calls was beyond strange. He hoped nothing bad had happened to her, but it had only been a day. And even if something happened, Harry was sure Dumbledore would’ve said something by now. Unless the call he got that morning had something do with it, in which case Harry was dreaded to think the unthinkable.

            _“_ Ahead _, Harry!”_ came Hannah’s voice into his ear, making the boy break out of his reverie.

            “Right, sorry.” he whispered as he abandoned the trail on the right he was going to take and went to the staircase. “Here goes.” he took a breath as he started to descend.

            “ _Wait.”_ Hannah said as Harry was nearing the sixth-floor landing, but stopped immediately at her voice. _“Up ahead, one of the motion detectors picked up something_.”

            “It’s just the moving staircase, Hannah.” Harry whispered back, as the staircase ahead moved into another position with a low rumble of marble against marble.

            “ _No, it’s still moving. Someone’s down there with you!”_ Hannah shouted frantically.

            “I don’t see…” Harry started, but in his view came one Mrs. Norris, tail raised up in the air, suspicious, like she somehow _knew_ there was someone out of bed. It wouldn’t be long until she reached Harry, and where the ruddy cat went, Filch usually followed close by.

            Without having time to think, Harry moved his arm in a short, aggressive motion and threw open the door to his left that lead to the sixth-floor corridor, making Mrs. Norris jump, hiss and run on her paws straight through the open door.

            _“That was close. Quick thinking there, Harry.”_ Neville remarked.

            “Thanks.” Harry replied as he climbed down the stairs. “But it means the caretaker is nearby. I’ll take the detour on the fifth floor, just to make sure.” he said as he quickly dove in to the said corridor.

            _“Alright, just be careful, we didn’t have time to properly secure it. Keep your eyes peeled.”_ Draco reminded him.

            “I’ll keep an eye out, don’t worry.”

            Harry treaded lightly, keeping his footsteps as light as he could and brainstorming ideas on how to place detectors all over the castle for future excursions like this one, or at least tap into the wards somehow. He quickly dismissed the latter with a huff to himself, scolding his own mind for thinking of such ludicrous ideas. As if he could _ever_ magic his way into the wards of an ancient, powerful, quasi-sentient castle that imbued itself with magic from millions of wizards and witches without some form of permission.

            “… they never stop joking around and mum just expects me to control them.” there was a voice coming somewhere from Harry’s front and to the right.

            “Someone’s coming!” the boy whispered to his friends and he barely had time to plaster himself to the wall, because in the next second a redheaded Prefect with freckles all over his nose and under his eyes turned a corner, barely missing Harry by an inch. He continued to walk, muttering to himself. If he wasn’t in such deep thought, he could’ve heard Harry’s small gasp as he walked past him. The Prefect disappeared into the hall to the right of the exit to the staircase, still mumbling something about ‘twins’ under his breath.

            _“I_ knew _we should’ve put more of those detectors down there. A second later and Percy would’ve dragged you to Snape by the collar!”_ Neville sighed and possibly dragged his hand across his face in annoyance, if the way the sound came from him was any indication.

            _“Weasley’s older brother?”_ Draco asked as Harry regained his senses and could make his legs work again.

            _“One of them. The oldest that’s still in school._ ” Neville replied.

            _“If the two of you are quite finished!”_ Hannah scolded them. _“We have a job to do.”_

            “Thanks, Hannah.” Harry spoke with a laboured breath as he dove through the passages leading to the fourth floor, the long spiral staircase, to the second floor and then finally reaching the library. Thank God the way here was illuminated by the dim sconces on the wall, otherwise he would’ve had to use his magic.

            _“Okay, our map stops here.”_ Draco spoke in Harry’s ear as the boy reached the deserted library. _“So you’re on your own from here on out. And remember, if the gates don’t open, turn around immediately and get back here.”_

            “I know.” Harry nodded more for himself as he treaded the rows of bookshelves he now knew like the back of his hand. Reaching the dreaded gates, he took a calming breath. Everything rested on this, all the planning and dodging surveillance was hinged on the opening of the gate. Reaching inside of him, he pulled his magic into his right hand, taking it out from under the cloak and touched the cold metal, willing the power inside of him to find a way to open it.

            ‘ _Here goes_ … ‘he thought to himself and pushed.

            But the gates offered no resistance and as far as he could tell, none of his magic was used in opening it. They just lamely opened under physical force with a small creak. Harry blinked twice in confusion, standing there with his arm reached out.

            _“YES!”_ Hannah’s voice rang in Harry’s head, as loud as a church bell up close. _“You’re brilliant, Harry Potter, just brilliant!”_

            “Thank you, Han, but I didn’t do anything. It just… _opened_.” he replied, making his way into the Restricted Section.

            _“Told you.”_ came Neville’s voice.

            _“That makes no sense. How could they just open like that, even after Pince knew someone was in there just weeks before?”_ Draco mused.

            “We’ll worry about figuring it out later, right now we have more important things to do.” Harry declared as he took his Invisibility Cloak off and proceeded to choose a table far from the view of the gates. “ _Lumos Minima._ ” he whispered, making a small ball of dim lighting appear in his left hand. Now that he could see better, he looked upon the books he would have to peruse with a small feeling of dread.

            “Buckle up, we have a long night ahead of us.” Harry sighed as his friends groaned.

            He started gathering books on his table, anything that dealt with magical items. Luckily, he only had to read one book at a time, as the camera he had on him helped his friends browse others at the same time, only he had to remember every minute and a half to turn over the pages for them. The contents of the books were… _awful_ , to say the least. Most of the things he found were magical items that could do untold horror or cast unthinkable devastation. Fortunately, most of them were now destroyed or out of commission, but sadly it meant that it wasn’t what they were looking for. Harry was beginning to lose hope that they could ever find out and silently prayed that Hermione was alright and that she would come with the information soon.

            _“We could try again tomorrow night.”_ Harry slightly jumped at Neville’s voice in his ear an hour and a half into their research. _“We have the entire Christmas holiday. And besides, Hermione could have an answer.”_

 _“But what if she doesn’t?”_ Draco yawned.

            “We made it this far, I’m not giving up tonight just yet.” Harry stubbornly refused to surrender, standing up to find more books. “ _Artefacts of the 14 th Century_, _Artefacts of the Forgotten Magic…_ ” he said as he perused the shelves in front of him. “There’s _got_ to be one that has it!”

            _“Try the fourteenth-century book._ ” Hannah supplied.

            “Okay…” Harry said as he took it out of the bookcase. “Contents, contents… Here! ‘ _Magical items and artefacts that revolutionised the face of the wizarding world’_!” he shouted happily. “Page 47!” the boy continued as he flipped through the pages. “‘ _Self Chopping Knife, First Bowtruckle Wand…’_ ” he said as he skimmed over chapter subtitles.

            _“It’s the Knife, I bet.”_ Draco sarcastically said in his ear. _“I mean, who wouldn’t want a knife that chops up your enemies by itself?”_

“ _’Body Fitting Dress, The Philosopher’s…’_ ” Harry strained to read, but paused immediately. “Oh, you’re bloody kidding me. The rest of the page’s missing!” he blew an exasperated sigh.

            _“Typical! The one time we get closer to something we get the rug pulled from under us!”_ Hannah complained.

            _“But what if that’s it? What if we’re close to something? It’s the same thing as with the search engine, the information is deliberately taken out!_ ” Draco jumped.

            _“Yes, but the Philosopher’s…what, exactly?”_ Hannah replied, but there was no time left to guess.

            There were muffled sounds of an old man speaking coming from somewhere behind Harry, which only meant one thing.

            “… out of their bed at this hour! Come, my sweet, we’ll bring the brat to the Headmaster at once!” said the voice.

            “Filch.” Harry took a breath.

            _“GET OUT OF THERE!”_ his friends screamed into his ear.

            Quickly, he whipped his hand, making every book fly back on the shelf, whispered _Nox_ to turn off the light and put his cloak on, while running away from the sound of the caretaker, no longer caring about being silent. Filch already knew someone was in the Restricted Section, there was no point in hiding that. But he could chase invisible ghosts all he wanted, as far as Harry was concerned, because there was no way the limping old man was catching up to him.

            _“Harry! There are four people coming towards the library, two from one side of the hallway and two from the other!_ ” Hannah shouted as the boy ran, holding the cloak on for dear life. _“You won’t be able to get past either of them, it’s too narrow_!”

            “I’ll have to risk it!” Harry said in a low tone.

            _“Wait, what’s that_?” Neville spoke and Harry looked ahead of him. On the wall on the hallway in front of him, the one facing the entrance to the library, a rectangular portion of it suddenly sunk in and raised itself up, leaving a hole in its wake that Harry could not see through. Decidedly not looking a horse gift into the mouth, he started to run towards it, aware of the fact that his momentary pause gave Filch the necessary time to reach the gates.

            _“You’re not going to make it!”_ Hannah warned Harry.

            “The hell I won’t.” Harry responded, gathering his strength.

            Two more steps and he did it. He _pushed_ the magic inside of him and let it wash over, before his feet left the ground and he scoured through the air, cloak still thankfully on, rapidly reaching the hole that was closing. He barely made it in time, as the people nearing the library turned their respective corners and just missed the wall closing behind Harry’s leg.

            In the utter darkness that he was in, Harry stopped immediately, but was off balance and promptly tripped and fell on his front as soon as he touched the ground again. With a groan, he stood up, massaging his head in the spot where the floor attacked him.

            _“Harry! HARRY!”_ his friends kept screaming into his ear, probably on their merry way to rupture was left of his eardrums.

            “I’m fine.” he replied out of breath as soon as the ringing in his head stopped. “I just tripped and fell.” he groaned as the headache he was fighting was beginning to subdue to a dull pain. He hoped that the darkness was just the lack of light and not him suddenly going blind. But a quick check to his pocket revealed his phone. Unlocking the screen showed his current call to Neville’s number and shed some light on the passageway he was in, so at least his vision was fine.

            _“That was wicked cool!”_ Draco praised the boy. _“You… you just flew!”_

            “More of a propelled jump, in any case, but close enough.” Harry tried to feel his body again, setting down his phone and dusting his Invisibility Cloak.

            _“Are you hurt?_ ” Neville spoke over the excited Draco.

            “Hit my head on my way to hug the floor and hurt my pride, but still fine.” Harry replied.

            _“But what if you have a concussion…?”_

            “I didn’t black out, I don’t feel nauseous, and I don’t have a loss of balance.” Harry sighed at his friend’s mothering of him. “I’m fine, Hannah, honestly. It’s a headache that’s already going away.”

            _“Where are you, anyway? You fell out of the grid._ ” Neville asked.

            “I don’t know.” Harry answered truthfully. “Some old passageway that hasn’t been used for some time, apparently, judging by the cobwebs on the walls.” he said as he looked around, using his phone as a light source, too exhausted to call on his magic for a few minutes. “I wonder where it leads.” he added thoughtfully.

            _“It’s not like you have any choice but to find out.”_ Neville said. _“You can’t exactly go back the way you came.”_

            “Don’t want to, is more like it.” Harry shuddered. “Awfully convenient that it opened at the moment I needed an escape route, don’t you think?” the boy spoke as grabbed his cloak and made his way to the spiral staircase going downwards, taking every step carefully.

            _“Remember when you made your way to the Room after talking with Lupin and you arrived before us, even though we were closer?”_ Hannah spoke after a minute.

            “Yes.” Harry began to see her point of view. “You think something similar happened? That a secret passageway opened in my path and that’s how I got there so fast?”

            _“And also how you were able to open the gates to the Restricted Section._ ” Draco added. _“The castle is believed to be somewhat sentient. Maybe it likes you.”_

            “And Neville. Those gates opened for him as well, didn’t they?” Harry argued as he continued his descent.

            _“True, although he is the heir of a Founder, his access to certain parts of the castle might just be a given.”_ his friend added.

            _“I didn’t even think of that.”_ Neville could be heard whispering.

            _“If that’s the case, I’m going to try to break into Filch’s office.”_ Hannah supplied, drunk with power at the prospect of her ancestry suddenly grating her the universal key to Hogwarts.

            Harry followed the stairs for two more minutes, before they came to a stop in front of another wall. That quickly changed, however, as Harry took another tentative step forward and the way opened, exactly like at the entrance to the library.

            Before him was a large room, with half-columns stretching out of the walls and archways in between them. It was dimly lit by the sconces on the wall, making Harry realise he was back in the main part of the castle. But where, exactly, he couldn’t tell.

            As soon as he stepped inside, the wall behind him closed with a small sound of stone scraping on itself. It looked as if there was never a hole behind it. The room was empty, save for a large, ornate mirror at the back. Curious, Harry stalked closer to it, while his friends maintained their silence. The frame of the mirror was golden, and the surface was pristine clean, even though the surroundings were not. There was writing on the frame above the actual mirror part, some strange language that Harry couldn’t understand.

            “ _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._ ” Harry read it aloud, thinking the low light wouldn’t show the writing on the camera,

            _“Lovely, but it doesn’t mean anything.”_ Hannah said in his ear.

            “No, wait.” Harry spoke mostly to himself and started to pace around. “It’s writing on a mirror, and mirrors…well, _mirror_ what they see.” he explained, forming a thought.

            _“Yes, and?_ ” Draco interjected.

            “Writing in a mirror appears… _backwards_.” he raised his gaze back to the writing and got closer to it. “ _I… show not…your face, but… your heart’s desire_!” he strained to read the words that were so annoyingly spaced out in the wrong parts. His smile from his clever deduction washed away quickly as he looked down in the mirror in front of him.

            He wasn’t alone.

            There were two more people with him, standing beside him, smiling from ear to ear. Harry felt like he should’ve been scared, but something inside of him stopped his oncoming desire to protect himself from the two newcomers. He looked behind him, but saw no one. But the mirror showed them as clear as day, as if they were standing with him, the light casting the same shadows on them.

            He looked at the woman first, long red hair and beautiful in all aspects. Her eyes were swimming in tears, even though she was smiling, but they were the same shade of green that Harry had. The man, tall and thin, with a strong jaw and handsome features, wore glasses and gazed upon the boy’s reflection almost proudly. But Harry noted that the man looked _exactly_ like him. The woman put a hand on his shoulder, while the man put his arms around her in a loving way. Harry could not feel the touch, but his hand shot up to meet hers. And in that moment, something inside of him could almost feel her skin as the woman caressed the back of his right hand. And from somewhere, deep down, he now knew that these people were not strangers. He had met them before, when life was more innocent, when those lighting fast flashes of cats, small broomsticks, sweet lullabies and joyful laughter occurred.

            “Mom?” Harry asked, barely concealing his sob. “D-dad?” he was letting the tears flow.

            The two figures nodded, happy that their son, their only child, finally recognised them. Harry couldn’t express his emotions at the moment. What he felt was a complex feeling, something no eleven-year old boy should feel. Happiness at finally seeing his parents, but so sad over the lost time, over the times that he could never get back. He was too young, and they were too _young_ to have been so horribly taken away from each other. They looked so _happy_ to see him, but Harry could only sob harder at their image, _hurt_ beyond what words could describe that he never saw them smiling at him like that until now.

            _“Harry…”_ the crushing reality came back in the form of Neville.

            _“Harry, whatever you’re seeing, it’s not real_.” Hannah said in a broken voice.

            Harry wanted to rip her apart in that instant, to tear her to shreds, to tell her to go to hell, because _this_ was real to him, this piece of him that longed for the two people in front of him was damn _real enough_ to him, and whatever she thought she could shove it in a place where the sun doesn’t shine.

            But he couldn’t, because he knew what she meant to say, and because he wouldn’t mean those things. Hannah was one of his friends, and his friends meant the world to him. His friends were alive, and _here_ , with him, not in a dream beyond the looking-glass. She was just trying to protect him, keep him safe.

            “I know.” Harry said in between sobs, in a voice that would break any heart, tearing away his gaze from the mirror.

            “Evening, Harry.” said a calm voice from Harry’s back.

            The boy quickly turned around, almost ready for an attack, so strung up he was. Dumbledore stood in the room, with his usual calm, looking like he made visits to this dusty room regularly. It was clear that he had watched Harry for some time.

            “Professor…” Harry found his voice after a few moments, before wiping away his tears. “When did you get back?” he tried to avoid the inevitable subject of why he was out of bounds at this hour.

            “A few minutes ago.” the aging Headmaster admitted airily, with no hint of anger in his voice as he stepped closer to his student. “My dear boy, are you alright?” he added quickly in concern as he saw the state of Harry’s face.

            “Bah, just the stupid mirror.” Harry admitted, inhaling through his nose and wiping his eyes again for good measure, noting that his friends maintained absolute radio silence. Whether it was from shock, fear or curiosity, Harry couldn’t figure it out.

            “Ah, I see. The Mirror of Erised certainly has an effect to all who look upon it.” Dumbledore agreed, looking intently at the blasted thing.

            “’Course it would be _desire_ spelled backwards.” Harry chuckled in spite of himself, remembering the words on the mirror.

            “And I have to constantly remind myself that you are one smart young boy.” Dumbledore smiled at Harry. “Then you know what the mirror does?” he continued at the boy’s indication. “The happiest man on Earth could see himself in that mirror exactly like he is. It does indeed show us our greatest desire, even if we wouldn’t know what that is.” the Headmaster mused.

            “I saw my parents.” Harry admitted, not meeting Dumbledore’s eye. “I saw them alive and _happy_.” he sighed sadly. “But it’s not true. They aren’t alive and they can’t come back.” he added.

            “Many have wasted away in front of it, trying to come up with a way to make their desires come true. But the mirror offers no knowledge or wisdom, just what you truly desire the most. In your case, the family you never knew.” Dumbledore spoke, looking even older than usually.

            “Sir…” Harry started, making Dumbledore look at him with his usual patient smile. “If I may ask, what do you see in the mirror?” the boy asked, hoping it was not too private.

            “Some warm woolly socks for Christmas. Everyone seems to be getting me books these days.” he chuckled.

            “Sorry, Professor, I shouldn’t pry.” Harry realised, but Dumbledore stopped him.

            “It’s quite alright, Harry. It’s in our nature to want vulnerability from others when we show it ourselves. In truth, the answer is much more simple than you’d expect and quite predictable, coming from someone like me. I see the same thing you do. My family.” Harry perked up almost immediately. “I am an old man, Harry,“ he explained, “and old men only desire the comfort of family after a certain age. With that said, I will move the mirror tomorrow, as this place is not safe for it anymore. And I must ask you to never seek it again. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.” Dumbledore added with a sense of finality.

            “I won’t, Professor. Trust me.” Harry said with conviction, gripping his cloak tighter.

            “Oh, well, off you pop. Go get some rest.” Dumbledore smiled without a care in the world. “Good night, Harry.”

            “Good night, Professor.” and with that Harry quickly exited stage left, or rather the door, trying not to bolt out of there and run in case Dumbledore changed his mind about not punishing Harry.

            “You guys catch all of that?” he asked into his headpiece, as he walked the ground floor corridor and made his way to the Grand Staircase, resigned that it was enough adventure and emotion for one night. In the back of his mind, he was thankful that he was smart enough to get an earpiece that fit solely into his ear and that Dumbledore didn’t see it.

            _“That. Was. Terrifying.”_ Hannah shuddered.

            _“I can’t_ believe _he didn’t even scold you for being out of bed after curfew. Granger is going to lose her marbles when she hears this.”_ Draco said in a stunned voice. _“Are you… alright after…you know.”_

“I’ll manage.” Harry added truthfully. “But I think we found out who the mysterious cloak benefactor is.”

            _“Who, Dumbledore?”_ Neville asked.

            “He didn’t even flinch when he saw me there and didn’t say one thing about what I was holding.” Harry said, rubbing the inside of the cloak with his thumb, as he walked silently through the deserted hallways. “He’s not as slick as he thinks he is.” he chuckled to himself.

            _“It was still scary.”_ Hannah repeated. _“We’re bloody lucky that he is so nice in his old age. I hate to think what sort of punishment the Dumbledore who took down Grindelwald would come up with.”_

            _“Probably find a twelfth use for dragon’s blood: acidic disintegration for naughty students.”_ Draco laughed, making Harry snicker.

            “It actually would be the thirteenth, Dumbledore already found out twelve…” Harry stopped mid-sentence.

            _“Yes, yes, sorry_ Professor Snape _. I forgot I can’t be incorrect with this lot even slightly so.”_ Draco drawled out.

            _“That was uncalled for, Malfoy.”_ Hannah admonished him, but the laughter in her voice didn’t properly convey the emotion. _“Nobody deserves to be Snape, not even_ Snape _.”_

 _“Uh… Harry? Are you alright? You stopped moving.”_ Neville’s voice was heard over the laughter that immediately subsided at his words.

            But the boy was frozen on the spot. It was like a slap to the face that came with an ice bucket thrown over his head that hit him. He and his friends spent _months_ searching, for hours at a time, hours that could’ve been spent for more productive things, and the answer had been staring at him in the face, laughing silently like an evil crone who was going to tell on your parents that you did a bad thing.

            Harry could not _believe_ the sheer amount of stupidity in him.

         

           “Fucking chocolate frogs.” Harry swore for the first time in his life like that.

            Silence. And then…

            _“Um…Does – does someone want to talk to him?_ ” Neville flustered.

            _“I’m too scared. He_ never _swears.”_ Hannah trembled.

            _“Hey, Potter? Harry? Is everything…_?” Draco tested the waters, but Harry was not done with his epiphany.

            “We have been so _blind_ , such… _idiots_! It’s always been there, _right_ in front of us. I order them once a week, for crying out loud! How could I have _never_ seen it!?” he vented his frustrations.

            _“Do you want to wake up the castle?!”_ one of his friends shouted, but Harry was too far gone.

            “I’m coming up there. One of you search for the online directory for Chocolate Frog Cards, _now_!” he added, ending the call and made his way to the seventh-floor corridor, skipping a few steps at a time. The stairs at least had the common sense to stay put, as they no doubt felt the anger coming from the young boy.

            Once inside the Room, Harry quickly made his way to the board, ignoring the confused and scared looks from his friends. He scrolled the page, making his way to the registry of the cards and selected the page for the names that started with an ‘A’.

            “Read it.” Harry said, trembling with emotion, as he pointed at the screen.

 

            _Albus Dumbledore_

_(1901 – present)_

_Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Prof. Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and ten-pin bowling._

“No.” Draco was the first one to break the tense silence. “No, it couldn’t possibly have been that easy.” he said, still staring incredulously at the screen.

            “It was, which is what _frustrates_ me!” Harry cried, sitting down in his seat. “But this is what we’ve been searching for. Dumbledore is hiding something of Flamel’s on the third floor, something that has to do with alchemy!”

            “Isn’t alchemy the study of magic in combination with science?” Hannah wondered aloud.

            “Precisely. It is a complicated subject, taught to a select few seventh years that got an _Outstanding_ on their _O.W.L_ exams in Transfiguration, Potions, Charms _and_ Herbology.” Harry revealed.

            They were interrupted by a pinging sound on Harry’s laptop, a shrill sound that repeated itself annoyingly. Harry quickly got to it and turned the screen towards him before smiling and making a few clicks on it.

            “Merry Christmas, Hermione.” he said to the image of the girl on the _True Scribble_ , the last remnants of his anger dissolving in favour of the happiness he felt at seeing his friend.

            Hermione was somewhere on a couch, in the living room of a nicely decorated mountain cabin, with only the fireplace and the screen as her source of light. She looked exhausted and her hair was messier that Harry remembered, but she looked fine otherwise.

            _“I am SO sorry it took me this long to get to you!”_ she started saying quickly, before anyone else could greet her. _“The minute I landed with my parents I discovered that they forgot to active my roaming option on the phone, which meant that I couldn’t call or text or even god forbid use the internet! It was maddening! And then when we got to the cabin in the Alps, we didn’t have Wi-Fi that was working until I figured out the plastic cap on the ethernet cable_ _was broken, so I pushed back into the router and…_ ”

            “We’re glad to see you too.” Neville laughed with the others, while Hermione turned red.

            _“Yes, well, I’m glad to see you guys too. I found out who Nicholas Flamel is!”_ she declared, while the rest of the gang held their collective breath. Harry suddenly realized that even that they managed to find out on their own who Flamel was, Hermione had access to more information than they did at the moment. _“He’s an alchemist, and the only one to have ever made an actual Philosopher’s Stone! Imagine that, a working, perfectly functioning Stone!_ ” she sighed, clearly in her element. _“I found dozens of links on it, there are so many papers on the subject! I’m sending them over to you now, of course, but the connection is slow.”_ she added, as their devices pinged with VTrunk notifications.

            “Oh, yes, the internet was slow, it couldn’t possibly be the 500 MB archive you sent.” Hannah rolled her eyes after checking her phone.

            _“Its proprieties are amazing! It can turn lead into pure gold and it can produce the famous Elixir of Life! The Elixir could cure almost any disease in the world and will prolong the user’s lifespan indefinitely, as long as you keep drinking it regularly. It’s the actual fountain of youth! And oh, the controversies on it; should such an object exist, should it be used, should it not be used, should it be shared with others, should it be kept entirely out of the hands of the general public… I could go on forever on this! It’s so fascinating!”_

            “This is what the package was.” Harry realised, standing up. “Hagrid had gotten permission from Dumbledore to take the Stone from Gringotts and had orders to get it back here.”

            Finally, _finally_ they knew what was hidden in the castle and what Quirrell was after. It was like being sunken into a pool and just now coming up for air. Months of questions and searching finally coming to a close.

            But open up one door and see that what lies ahead isn’t as nice as you thought.

            “Quirrell wants the Stone, but to do what?” Harry mused.

            “I can think of worse things than money and eternal youth.” Draco shrugged.

            “No.” Harry frowned. “No, think about it. Wherever Flamel previously had it, it was obviously within his reach, but secure enough that no one could’ve stole it.”

            _“I thought as much. Why place it in danger by moving it, even to Gringotts?_ ” Hermione nodded.

            “And then here. To the castle. The one other safe location in magical Britain.” Harry rubbed his chin. “It’s bait!” he quickly realised. “The Stone is used as bait!”

            “For _Quirrell_?” Hannah made a face.

            “No, not for him. For someone who could most likely benefit from the Elixir of Life, who would abuse it for their own means.” Harry shook his head, trying to push down the dread rising in his chest.

            “But that could be virtually anyone!” Neville exclaimed.

            “We excluded it as a possibility because there was no previous connection, but now that we know what the target is… Look, for some reason, Quirrell hates me, he has tried to kill me on more than one occasion. Why is that? What could I have done that made him want to murder me?” he asked his friends.

            “So he _is_ a Death Eater, then?” Draco cleverly got to the point.

            “Yes, or a supporter, I don’t know. The point is, he wants me dead and he wants the Stone for the Elixir of Life. But not for himself. For Voldemort.” Harry continued in a grave tone.

            Gasps from all around the room. Harry anticipated this, of course, and the stunned silence that followed, refusal to think that he was right.

            “This is a bit far-fetched, even for you.” Draco remarked.   

            “I didn’t say he was working with the man, Draco, I just said what I think his reasoning is!” Harry defended himself. “It makes sense when you think about it. Why else try to hurt me? I get good grades in his class and I never spoke to the man!”

            “Yes, but You-Know-Who?” Neville spoke, paler than any ghost at this point. “It’s too much, even for us.”

            “Look…” Harry regarded them with a little bit of honesty. “Maybe I’m wrong and Quirrell isn’t a Death Eater and he isn’t doing this for his master. But one thing I know for sure: Dumbledore wouldn’t try and bait just about anyone, not with the added threat of innocent bystanders.”

            “So does that mean… _you’re_ also bait?” Hannah shook her head in disbelief.

            Everyone paused to think on her words. It was shocking to them that Dumbledore would use Harry like that, to try and draw out the Dark Lord as soon as the Boy-Who-Lived remerged into the magical world. It fitted, sure, as Dumbledore seemed like the pragmatic type. But it was Neville that reminded them of the truth.

            “No.” he decided in a matter-of-fact tone, standing up. “The Headmaster wouldn’t use Harry as a means for getting You-Know-Who himself. The Stone may be here just as a means of precaution, I don’t think Dumbledore moved it here as a means of catching the Dark Lord.”

            “But _two_ things he would want in the same place? One of those, I could stomach, but two?” Draco inquired.

            _“Listen to yourselves!”_ Hermione shouted from the screen. _“This is Dumbledore we’re talking about! There is no way he would place Harry or any other student in danger like this! And the point is moot anyway, since we can’t know for sure that Quirrell is a supporter of You-Know-Who!”_

            “Maybe you are all right, just in different parts.” Hannah rested her elbows on the back of the couch, looking between her friends. “Dumbledore moves the Stone here just as Harry arrives at Hogwarts for his first year, not as _bait_ ,” she raised her hand as soon as Hermione drew in breath to argue” but to keep an eye on both of them. It is a known fact that You-Know-Who is afraid of Dumbledore, so having both the artefact and Harry under Dumbledore’s watchful eye would likely be to discourage the Dark Lord from seeking either of those out. _But_ , the Headmaster knows he would at least try for one of these, so he places the one thing he can’t look after at all times under heavy protection.” she continued to make her point while everyone else looked at her like she grew a second head. “But he also knows _he_ wouldn’t come here himself, either he’s too weak at the moment or is precautious. So, he sends someone in his stead, and _that’s_ what Dumbledore is baiting with the Stone, and the Stone _only_. That someone is Quirrell, as far as we can tell, but of course we know Dumbledore can’t do anything about him yet, he hasn’t exactly _caught_ the man doing anything wrong. In the meantime, Harry is protected through us, the other students and all of the teachers and as another precaution, sends him the Invisibility Cloak.”

            Harry blinked is rapid succession. This was something he never would’ve imagined, _Hannah_ , so carefree and usually with the most rambunctious of plans, making a logical, well thought out order of events that, wouldn’t you know it, actually _fits_.

            “That’s…” Harry started. “Incredible, how quickly you put it all together. And it certainly sounds like something Dumbledore would do.”

            “Thank you, I do try.” she jumped, quite proud of herself.

            “If I don’t see you in the next twenty years as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I’m suing them. And I want you as my solicitor.” Draco made a gesture with his index finger at the girl, who smiled and curtsied, while Neville simply stared at her, still in shock.

            _“Hang on, what Invisibility Cloak?”_ Hermione regained her senses.

            “Oh, right! We haven’t got the chance to tell you yet!” Harry moved to the front of the _True Scribble_ with his cloak from Dumbledore and told her everything that had happened tonight. Hermione was, well, _abhorred_ was one word for it, to hear the crazy plan that her friends concocted while she was away ( _“Impatient! All of you! Irresponsible to the nth degree! Out of your minds! I can’t leave you alone for two bloody minutes before you get in danger of getting expelled! Do NOT tell me to calm down, Draco Lucius Malfoy, or I swear to_ God _I will come there this instant and hex your scrawny little arse into the next age!_ ) but managed to keep silent as Harry recited the events with the mirror, his late-night conversation with Dumbledore and how he found out the connection between the alchemist and the Headmaster.

            _“No.”_ she said after Harry finished retelling of events. _“No, it couldn’t possibly have been this easy the whole time.”_ she shook her head.

            “That’s what I said!” Draco agreed with her, shaking his hands for emphasis. “You should’ve hear Potter, the expletives he had for…”

            “Decidedly _moving on_!” Harry spoke over the snickering blond, red cheeks on his face in slight shame over the memories of his earlier outburst. “We now know what Quirrell is seeking in the castle. Thankfully, as far as we can tell, he still hasn’t gotten to it, which means we don’t have to intervene yet.”

            “This has bugged me since day one.” Neville spoke out of turn. “Quirrell proved that he is more than capable of serious magic so far, so what in the world is stopping him from reaching the Stone under the trapdoor? And if he is in league with You-Know-Who, that raises even more questions as to what’s down there to protect the Stone from him or anybody else.”

            “Maybe whatever protections the teachers have in there are more than enough to secure it?” Hannah contemplated.

            _“Or the giant Cerberus at the entrance is proving to be more difficult than anyone thought.”_ Hermione pipped in. _“Snape did have trouble getting past in on Halloween, didn’t he?_ ”

            “Yes, and nobody seems to know how to get them to calm down. There are dozens of theories online and in books, but no one wants to try them.” Harry agreed. “Although Hagrid managed to, so that’s something.”

            “So we don’t try to get the Stone before Quirrell and we don’t go to Dumbledore, but we’re to somehow try and keep Hagrid from spilling information on how to properly wrangle Fluffy.” Draco made an educated guess.

            “Precisely. How hard can it be?” Harry smiled and looked upon the room to see he was at the end of receiving distrustful looks. A second later, his mind caught up with what he said and he let out a dreary sigh.

            They were all doomed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Sorry for being away, I was dealing with feelings and stuff, but now I'm much better! I quite liked this chapter, all the espionage and secrecy stuff made it so fun! And you know I just had to make Harry swear like that, it was delicious, although I am sorry for describing exactly how he felt in front of the Mirror, that part made me tear up really bad, I had to take a few breaks while writing that scene.  
> Anyway, see you all again soon! We're nearing the end of the first book, oh but what I have in store for this story in the future. *evil laugh*


	12. The Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's plans take an interesting turn when Hagrid does the unexpected, but then everything changes.

 

            _“Bennett passes to Gardner, who passes to… But it is intercepted by Flint! Flint goes in for the shot, dodges Bludger sent by Ravenclaw Beater Ferguson, throws the Quaffle and… HE SCORES! 70-10 for Slytherin!”_ Jordan roared in his microphone over the loud stadium cheering for Slytherin’s Quidditch team.

            Harry made a little victory dance with his broomstick on the other side of the stadium, earning him a few shouts and hollers from the supporters below.

            “You know, I think you’re supposed to be doing something right about now.” Remus spoke in an amused tone, flying in to Harry’s right.

            “And are _you_ supposed to be having pleasant conversation with one of the players during a match you’re refereeing?” Harry quipped impertinently, while not looking at Lupin.

            “I’ll intervene if I’m needed, but you know I’m supposed to keep an eye on you, considering last time.” Remus lightly added, watching over the game happening in front of them. “And you need to search for the Snitch. Or so I’m told.” the man shrugged nonchalantly.

            “Is there a rule that says I can’t just stay here for the duration of the match?” Harry said, moving his eyes mechanically, looking at something Remus couldn’t see.

            “Not if you want your team to win.” the man clicked his tongue. “I could give you a penalty card, if you want.”

            “No grounds for it to stick.” Harry replied calmly. “The Ravenclaw Seeker, Chang, was it? She’s been spinning around in circles for the last ten minutes. She’s got to be tired and her eyesight blurry from moving at a high speed for so long without pause. She didn’t notice the Snitch floating to the left of the Ravenclaw goal posts.” he revealed what he was watching so meticulously.

            “And?!” Remus did a double take. “What on Earth are you waiting for!”

            The gong sounded again, loudly, as Slytherin scored against Ravenclaw.

            “That.” Harry gave a sly smile after the signal and _soared_ through the air at high speeds, the wind he caused in his wake making a few hats fly under him. In less than ten seconds, he was already at the other end of the stadium, with the Snitch in hand, which he showed off lazily to the audience while Jordan went ballistic.

            Harry landed among his teammates, who congratulated him with hugs and pats on the back, clamouring to thank him for winning them the match.

            _“Ladies and gentlemen, this has been quite the event! And remember to follow us on Hooting, fist-bump…”_ Jordan did his usual spiel after the game while Marcus and Roger Davies shook hands amicably, with Marcus patting Davies on the shoulder sympathetically. Harry caught Cho Chang’s look of discouragement through the moving arms and bodies of his teammates. He gave a shrug, a ‘what can you do?’ type of movement that at least made the girl laugh in spite of herself, before she moved on to her team’s lockers.

            Harry himself moved on to avoid the oncoming supporters and took refuge in his team’s shower, where he scrubbed himself clean in less than five minutes. He barely broke a sweat after all. He walked back in the lockers, scrubbing his head with a towel with one hand and trying to get the remaining water out of his right ear with the other one, when he discovered he wasn’t alone. Hermione and Neville were sitting down on a bench, talking quietly, while Draco and Hannah were standing on opposite sides of the aisle, looking in different directions.

            “Nice catch back there.” Draco was the first to remark the dumbfounded Harry standing still, index finger still in his ear, making everyone turn to the boy expectantly. They looked like they had all the reason to be there, but the reason eluded the young boy still.

            “Uh…Thanks?” Harry managed to get out before finally composing himself.

            “I saw Lupin next to you. Before you caught the Snitch. What did he want?” Hermione remembered to ask suddenly.

            “Wanted to see why I wasn’t searching for it.” Harry responded, still not moving from his spot, eyes jumping around the room for an explanation for his friends being there.

            “Oh.” she made a face, like she was expecting more from the subject. “And why weren’t you?” she asked, still not getting the fact that Harry wasn’t perceiving any of this as normal.

            “I already knew where it was because I saw it at the beginning of the match and was just tracking its movements on the other side of the field.” he continued to stare.

            “Ah, of course.” Hannah laughed. “And you waited for a 70-point lead for Slytherin because our team beat Gryffindor with a 30-point lead, so you had to secure your first place in the championship with a total of 420 points.”

            “Stop being so succinct, it’s _unnerving_.” Draco shifted uncomfortably.

            “Look, guys, what are you doing here?” Harry finally lost his patience.

            “Waiting for you, of course, what else? Are you going to get dressed soon?” Hannah spoke

            “And you couldn’t do this _outside_ of the boys’ locker room?” Harry drawled out in a flat tone, making a face at her.

            “No.”  Hannah, Draco and Hermione spoke at the same time, shaking their heads.

            “Of course you couldn’t.” Harry sighed deeply, turning around and making the towel around his midsection float behind him as a curtain, to give some sort of privacy.

            “I told you we should’ve waited for him.” Neville spoke in what was supposed to be a low tone, as the message was only intended for the other three rascals, but Harry caught it.

            “Yes, thank you Nev, for being the only sensible one here. I’m leaving you in charge the next time I’m not available.” the green-eyed boy declared as he made his clean clothes fly from his locker.

            “I take offense to that.” Draco scoffed in a tone that suggested the dirt under his fingernails would be more entertaining than waiting around for his friend to be presentable.

            “Dully noted.” Harry sarcastically replied, putting on pants and a sweater, flicking his wrist to make the towel float lazily into a dirty laundry basket nearby. “Now what was so important that it couldn’t wait the two minutes it takes for me to be done?”

            “Draco got a reply from his father, regarding Quirrell.” Hermione said just as she would answer a question in class.

            Harry paused for a second as he put on his shoes, before resuming tying up the laces.

            “And?” he inquired.

            “He was the Muggle Studies teacher before last summer, when he took a trip to Albania. Something happened to him there, because he didn’t stutter before that.” Draco replied, taking over the conversation. “Other than that, no incidents, no personal history noteworthy or anything the like. From what my father tells, he was always somewhat of a cowardly man, but…”

            “Nothing conclusive, just as we thought.” Neville finished for him.

            “ _Aestus._ ” Harry whispered, running his hand through his hair and making it dry in place instantly, assuming its natural ‘carefully orchestrated mess that’s actually proper in the right lighting’ state. “And we can’t find out exactly what happened in Albania without asking the man directly.” Harry agreed to the unspoken words between them. “Any luck on the other thing?” he asked as he took his belongings and exited the room with his friends right behind him.

            “There was one page in the book we found about magical beasts in the Restricted Section about Cerberuses.” Hermione told Harry as they took a corner while they put their outerwear back on and went outside on the trail back at the castle that was swarmed with students by now. “There was something about the connection to an old Greek myth about the original guardian of the Underworld, but most of the words were faded out. But there was one that we did manage to get out before we had to be at the game: Orpheus.”

            “The one with the lyre? The poet?” Harry raised an eyebrow, making everyone look at him incredulously. “Oh, honestly, don’t any of you read for fun?” he clicked his tongue at the stares he was receiving.

            “Yes, the same one.” Hermione regained her voice as they took a more secluded path back to the castle, trying to brave the icy wind of January.

            “We checked, but other than him going to rescue his love from the Underworld, there was nothing on him meeting the Cerberus.” Neville spoke as he remembered to give Harry back the Invisibility Cloak, which he took with a thankful nod. “Nothing online suggests a connection.”

            “And yet someone managed to write it in a book, a book which is now not meant for the general public.” Harry mused. “Nice work!” he congratulated his friends as they reached the clock tower courtyard, hurrying to get inside to the wonderful warmth of the castle.

            “But we haven’t managed to find anything worthwhile!” Hannah reprimanded herself and the three others.

            “It’s still something, at the very least.” Harry shrugged as he took of his coat. “In the meantime, we should do research on Albania.” he ended the conversation cryptically.

            It was only the first week back and they still weren’t letting up on finding out whatever they could on Fluffy and Quirrell. Lucius Malfoy proved unusually forthcoming with information when asked. Draco had the idea that if he had to write occasionally about Harry and send information, his father could be bothered to do the same. He was careful in his letter, asking about useful information on the teachers at Hogwarts, given that Malfoy senior was on the Board of Governors. Aside from the tip about Albania, the five friends managed to gather a _frightening_ amount of information on their other teachers. Harry quickly snatched the entire page dedicated for Snape from their clutches before they managed to read it, stating ‘ _Not unless it’s absolutely necessary.’_ and placing it in his moleskin agenda from Hermione.

            With the conclusion of their search for the artefact, they were now focusing most of their efforts back to school matters. If Fluffy managed so far, and by extension Hagrid, they could take a breather from all the investigating and put more into their Transfiguration essays.

            “Oh, yeah, I will definitely need to know how to change a pin cushion into a hedgehog in my life.” Hannah rolled her eyes at her screen, sarcasm dripping from her voice as she sat down with the four others one night in the Room. Unfortunately for her, Hermione heard every word and launched into a rant about the importance of the basics, after which Harry instated a rule about bashing Transfiguration as a subject or defending it too much, to keep the peace.

            While Hermione protested the notion of spending even more time in the Restricted Section at first, she came around after a while, having exhausted every other source of information they could find at the moment. As such, Harry, Neville and Hannah took turns using the Invisibility Cloak to search for what they needed, either during the busier hours of the library, when Madam Pince couldn’t watch every single student in there, or during the weekends when it was absolutely deserted. They usually went two by two, Hermione with Neville and Hannah with Draco, as Neville and Hannah were heirs of the Founders and somehow had access to that part of the library and Harry went solo.

            Whenever they could, Harry and Draco trained together to further their respective abilities. Draco had finally given in to his talents and was now manipulating water and ice at almost any given moment. It was clumsy most of the time, especially when he tried more complicated things like maintaining a tendril of water suspended in the air, but what he lacked in finesse he more than made up for it in determination. Harry managed to extend the length of time he could float and the altitude which he could go to, but not by much and not without putting him out of commission for a few minutes. Hannah, Hermione and Neville helped them however they could, but they had no previous knowledge of the two boys’ abilities to speak of. Thus, they were resigned to try on their own, but that did not discourage them.

            Time went on and the daylight got longer and longer. It was well into March when Hermione came up with an idea, one Saturday morning at breakfast.

            “I’m thinking we should talk to Hagrid about Fluffy.” she said nonchalantly, earning her a few stares from the other occupants, most frozen on the spot with their mouths open and their food halfway to their face.

            “Uh… Are you sure about that?” Draco managed to ask first, setting down his fork.

            “Yes.” she nodded without any hesitation. “Look, we’ve been going about this up and down for the past five months, and I know I opposed talking to Hagrid before, but now I don’t think we have a choice.” she pleaded the group.

            “Alright.” Harry conceded. “What do you have in mind?” he asked as the bushy-haired girl laid out her thoughts.

            That night, straining to hide all five of them under one Invisibility Cloak made for a single person, they arrived at Hagrid’s hut. There was fire coming from the chimney, dark and heavy smoke that rose up in the air, still visible in the pale moonlight. It was quiet, save for the few rustling of leaves and owl hoots from the Forbidden Forest to the right, a few yards away.

            Harry knocked on the door and waited with trepidation, as the four others stood in silence, not daring to glimpse at one another if only not to start doubting themselves of this. But it was already too late, as the door opened, revealing the giant man in his normal day attire, with strangely enough _oven mitts_ on his hands, big as one of Harry’s jumpers from when he was seven.

            “Who’s out there?” Hagrid asked, confused, looking over the heads of the culprits.

            “It’s us, Hagrid!” Harry announced their presence and took off the cloak to reveal themselves. Hagrid made a slight jump, took a few seconds to blink, opened his mouth to say something, closed it immediately.

            “Yeh know what, I don’t wanna’ know. Come in, come in!” he motioned them inside the hut that was hot as an oven. Despite the still cold weather outside, Harry thought heating up this much was a bit excessive, as this was a small, enclosed space and Hagrid was one giant, furry man who could sweat easily.

            “Hagrid, are those unicorn tail hairs?” Draco asked politely, likely trying to goad Hagrid into small talk as they discussed.

            “Oh, yeah. I found ‘em caught in branches all over the forest. They’re good fer healing and stuff like that.” he mentioned off-hand.

            “Why are you trying to bake your own house?” Hannah, ever so tactful, spoke before she could stop herself as they sat down and Hagrid went to make tea.

            “It’s a… something new I’m trying.” he said suspiciously as he tried to be discreet in hiding a book on the table that the five missed until now. “Never mind that, what are yeh doing this late at night? Yeh want Filch to catch you?” he tried for admonishing them, but it came out rather fake, as if he had to remind himself he had a responsibility.

            “What, we can’t just drop by for tea?” Neville countered innocently.

            “Not with yeh lot. Yeh’re poking yer noses again, I can tell.” he chuckled as he gave everyone tea and promptly went to the oven to maintain the fire.

            “Is that really necessary?” Harry asked confused, as Hermione tried to get closer to the book Hagrid tried to hide and not be noticed by him.

            “Well, yes, it needs to…” the giant man started to say, but was interrupted by a rattle _inside_ the oven. “Oooh, oooh!” he cooed and took out something just slightly bigger than a football and put it in a metal bowl on the table in front of them, making their cups shake violently from the force. Hermione got out of the way to make room for Hagrid and took the chance to slide over to the other side of the table and snatch the book while the man was distracted. She took one look at the cover, gasped and looked accusatorily at Hagrid, but what she had to say would have to wait.

            The object in the metal bowl in front of them was shaking and started to creak, while Hagrid produced encouragement. For a moment there, Harry felt the need to grab everyone and _run_ , because whatever had Hagrid so happy, it was bound to be unpleasant for them, tiny little students that were subject to breakage under force.

            His instincts proved right in a way, as the object shattered and exploded everywhere, launching sharp projectiles faster than they could process. Everyone barely had time to duck down for cover, their shouts of surprise being overshadowed by Hagrid’s cheering and by _something_ making strangled sounds above their heads.

            Still under the table, they all shared a look before rising back up slowly, mentally preparing for danger. In the metal bowl no longer stood the object from the oven, but a large bird-like creature with no feathers, big yellowy eyes and a head no bigger than Harry’s fists. He didn’t need to look at the book Hermione was showing them on the other side of the table to figure out what was going on.

            “Is that a _dragon_?” Neville squeaked, trying to get as far from the table as possible, digging his fingers into Draco, who was closest to him, to do the same.

            “It’s not just any dragon, it’s a Norwegian Ridgeback!” Hannah replied gleefully, earning her the side eye from the other four, while Hagrid was _petting_ the damn thing. “Hagrid, how did you get one of those?”

            “Won ‘im in a cards game down at the pub.” he said off-hand, while the dragon cooed and looked around. It was actually cute, in a way, if Harry didn’t constantly remind himself that this was a viscous reptile that breathed fire.

            “And…What are you going to do with it?” Draco tried to regain his composure.

            “Well, raise ‘im, of course, what did yeh think?” Hagrid huffed like the answer was obvious.

            “May I remind you that you live in a _wooden_ home?” Harry remembered that he had to be the voice of reason, while the baby dragon hiccupped and spewed flames on Hagrid’s beard, singeing the tips. “And he does that?” he continued as Hagrid tried to put out the fire, while everyone else decidedly took a step back. Neville and Draco were now plastered to the wall.

            “Nonsense, Harry, look! He knows his mommy already!” he smiled at the happy dragon.

            “She.” Hermione said for the first time, making everyone pause while she closed the book on how to take care of dragons. “Look at the placement of the ridges on her back, she is definitely female. And _it was_ you in the Restricted Section earlier yesterday!” she accused Hagrid. “I thought I imagined it!”

            “How did yeh get in there?” Hagrid tried to change the subject, but Hermione was one step ahead of him.

            “How are _you_ going to explain to Professor Dumbledore that you have hatched a dragon egg into your home, on his grounds, near students, never minding that it’s illegal under current Ministry Law to do so.” she crossed her arms to emphasise her point, and even though Hagrid was battling with himself, her argument already won. It would not do for Hagrid to disappoint the Headmaster like this, although Harry had a passing though that Dumbledore would allow the giant man to keep the dragon, if only for educational purposes.

            “But she’s so tiny…” Hagrid tried and Harry had to feel for him. He always wanted a dragon, and now that he had it they were saying it had to be taken away.

            “She is now, Hagrid, but she will grow and she won’t fit in here. She’ll want to fly and be with others of her kind. It’s like keeping a bird, a really giant bird, trapped into a cage. At some point, she will be miserable.” Harry put a hand on Hagrid as the man quietly sobbed. “Come on, we can think of something tomorrow, right now you need to take care of…” he trailed off, not knowing how to call the dragon that was now staring at him with interest and curiosity.

            “Norberta.” Hagrid added between sobs. “I wanted to call him Norbert, but if he’s a she, then…”

            “A beautiful name, Hagrid.” Harry agreed. “We’ll leave you be.” he motioned for everyone else to get their things and move out immediately.

            They exited in an orderly fashion, bidding their farewells to Hagrid for the night and set out their course back to the castle, trying not to trip on one another under the cloak.

            “What was he thinking?” Draco whispered angrily. “A dragon, a real life, fire breathing, _dragon_!”

            “He wasn’t thinking.” Hermione huffed. “And we didn’t even manage to ask him about anything before it hatched!”

            “We have to do something about it, we can’t just let him keep one. Someone will notice, which means parents will know and they will have him out of Hogwarts faster than you can yell ‘fire’!” Neville remarked.

            “We could tell Dumbledore.” Hannah piped in. “He doesn’t seem to care if you break some rules and it’s Hagrid we’re talking about, for Merlin’s sake.” she cried. “The Headmaster isn’t going to let him go so easily.”

            “He has a baby dragoness.” Harry rebutted as they were reaching their split-up point near the Great Hall. “At any rate, we’ll figure this out later.” he finished with a note of finality as they parted ways to their respective dorms.

            In the next few days, they all scrambled to find ways to get the newly hatched creature off the grounds without anyone noticing it or getting Hagrid in trouble. Going to Dumbledore was a last resort option, so they settled on exhausting every other possible means.

            “We could try to find one of the passageways that lead out of the castle and into Hogsmeade.” Draco suggested at lunch two days after their failed attempt to get information out of Hagrid.

            “Filch could have monitoring wards on them.” Hermione sighed into her mashed potatoes, hair frizzier than usual due to sheer exhaustion. Harry felt kinship to her, as his hair was no better at the moment, rebellious from the lack of attention given to it.

            “Like he has on the Restricted Section?” Hannah replied sarcastically after drinking some of her pumpkin juice while scrolling on her phone.

            “He did know Harry was in there during Christmas. Not to mention the few times he appeared afterwards when we were exploring there.” Neville countered, filling his goblet.

            “A _few_ times.” Draco accentuated. “Meaning he didn’t always have time to get there or he just got lucky.”

            “We’re talking about the inside of the castle.” Harry decided to settle the matter, wiping his mouth with a napkin and regarding everyone. “They can’t possible watch every nook and cranny in this giant place, but if we’re talking about a way out then you bet your galleons that they’re all guarded. This is supposed to be a safe place after all.”

            “Pfft…” Draco huffed dismissively, lying on the back rest and crossing his arms. “Like the troll that almost crushed all of us. Right safe I felt.”

            “Quirrell got it in, somehow.” Hannah mused thoughtfully.

            “Quirrell is an adult, a teacher, far better at magic than all of us and he has an evil agenda to boot.” Hermione pipped in in a higher voice than usual. It was still a sore spot for her than one of the people in charge of the students was actively trying to hurt them.

            “And yet, he smuggled a large creature into the castle when no one was looking.” Harry sighed and even Hermione had to concede to his point. “Well, we can’t really ask him, but we can take a page from his book” he continued, forming an idea. “The troll had to be brought from somewhere below, it’s a large creature and it had to come through one of the tunnels from that endless dungeon down in the basement. So, for a smaller creature with wings, we smuggle it in the most sensible way for it: by air.”

            “Norberta can’t fly yet, Harry, she’s 48 hours old.” Hermione automatically corrected him.

             “No, but I can.” he suddenly realised. “I can fly her out of here.”

            There was a momentary silence and an exchange of looks between the other four at the table as they contemplated what Harry just said, but the boy had already made up his mind about it. He had been dying to do it again after his escape from expulsion during Christmas and he had showed promise in his more recent training sessions. He didn’t tell anyone that he manged to float for an incredible amount of time and not feel the need to touch back on the ground.

            “I’m pretty sure there’s a detection ward for broomsticks. Especially yours.” Draco was the first one to mouth off. “With a little Harry special notification pinging on Dumbledore’s phone and everything.”

            “I didn’t say anything about my Firebolt.” the boy replied evenly. “I’m talking about my little magician’s trick.” he smirked.

            “Out of the question!” Hermione immediately went off. “You don’t have yet the capacity to float more than a few inches off the ground, let alone fly at a distance and if you should start to fall from too high, you _yourself_ said what would happen!” she continued, referencing Neville’s accident from earlier in the school year, which made the boy grumble and pointedly look away. “And what if someone sees you and then records you and you’re all up on Hooting and Handprint and Quickpic, _god_ _forbid_ you should go viral on Quickpic… Wait, what’s going on?” Hermione interrupted her tirade of worries now that she finally had noticed that her chair had been ever so slightly levitating higher and higher for the last minute or so. She then forgot her panic as she eyed Harry dangerously, who was suddenly very concerned about the current trend about the latest Quidditch match on Hooting.

            “Sorry, you were saying?” Harry asked innocently, locking his phone and smiling at her.

            “This isn’t funny, Harry!” she tried to keep her voice even, but it went up near to a shriek when she went almost three feet in the air and the chair under her wobbled. It was then that Harry immediately stopped joking around, froze the chair in mid-air and brought her down safely, somehow still not noticed by any of the other students.

            “Sorry, didn’t actually mean to scare you.” he apologised for his lack of concern.

            “Right.” Hermione said, as she tried to get her blood pressure under control again. Neville reached out to comfort her while shooting Harry disapproving glare. “Don’t ever do that again without a warning.” she finally unclasped her hands from the edges of her seat, knuckles gone white from the force.

            “The look on your face, though!” Hannah lost it at the same time with Draco, laughing so hard they were shaking, but a second later they both found themselves in the same situation as their friend, as Harry raised an eyebrow their direction and their chairs moved upwards and tipped forwards for a second, before bringing them down hard on the ground for good measure. It was one thing to make a bad joke on a friend, but another to continue to laugh at their misfortune. And their shocked yelps were priceless.

            “Oi!” they shouted in unison as they recovered, ignoring the way Hermione was sniggering at them behind her had.

            “Alright, enough of that, Harry!” Neville suddenly remembered he had a voice, and a rather commanding one at that. “We now have firmly established that you can lift more than your weight and higher than before.”

            “Thank you.” Harry bowed his head. “Now all that remains is finding a way to fly unseen by anyone.”

            “Do I have to state the actual obvious here?” Hannah drawled out, making one of her napkins into a ball and throwing it at Harry’s head as revenge, but the projectile somehow did a graceful arc over Harry’s head and landed into the bag meant for disposal next to him. “Rhymes with Credibility Oak?” she rolled her eyes and shook her head.

            “We tried that.” Draco intervened helpfully, rearranging his hair. “It keeps falling off if you don’t grip it and no spell actually works on it for some reason. The only way Harry was able to summon it was by carrying it over to him with another object.”

            “Then _tie_ it!” Hannah made a face at him.

            “To _what_?” Draco retorted in the same tone, sounding effortlessly more put off than her. “We wrap Potter’s cloak to his body with rope and hope no one sees two circles flying off in the sky? While he’s supposed to be carrying a baby dragon with him?” at this he brought his voice down to a whisper, but they’ve been talking so casually so far about smuggling an illegally hatched creature that no one was paying attention to a word they said.

            “He’s right, we can’t use it until I find a way to stick it to myself while flying _without_ it falling off, and we don’t have a lot of time. Hagrid sent me a photo this morning, “ he said as he forwarded the picture to their VTrunk account, ”Norberta is growing faster than anticipated.”

            “Dragons are pure magical creatures, they thrive off magical energy, and seeing as we’re in a place full of it on every square inch possible…” Hermione explained after putting the phone down, leaving the rest of the sentence hanging.

            “She’s going to get bigger and bigger every day and by then it will be too late, someone will discover her.” Draco finished for her. “Right, so we have to find a way to get Potter and _Norberta_ “ he continued, making a face at the name, “to get out of the grounds, we don’t have time to figure out ways to make the cloak stay on, use other means of invisibility or to find another way for them to do it.”

            “Don’t forget the part where we have no idea what to do next.” Hermione interjected, pointing at Draco with her fork. “We can’t exactly let loose a baby dragon in the wild, it could get hurt!”

            “It’s. A. _Dragon_!” Hannah said after making a grunt and moving her hands as she spoke for emphasis, like they were all idiots who had to had it explained to them that dangerous creatures could take care of themselves.

            “It’s still a _baby_ and if you want to suggest to Hagrid that we just abandon it somewhere, you go on ahead!” Hermione defended Norberta with a passion.

            “Hang on… Didn’t you tell me that one of the Weasleys in this sort of business?” Draco turned to Neville, who seemed to have been wrecking his brains for that exact sentence. “Dragon wrangling, I mean?” he specified.

            “Yes, Charlie Weasley, Ron’s older brother. He’s a Dragonologist who works at a reserve in Romania.” Neville explained. “I could get his contact number?” he asked Harry, who nodded excitedly in response.

            “You dummy, why didn’t you mention this before?” Hannah smiled and reached out to affectionately pat Neville on the back, making the boy go red in the face.

            “Well, I didn’t even think about it till now.” he grumbled to his chest.

            “Well, at least we have an end goal. Now all we need is a way to transport both Harry and Norberta unnoticed.” Hermione put them back at square one. “How about a powerful Notice-Me-Not spell?” she tried.

            “It might not work and we don’t have time to test it.” Harry reminded her.

            “What if you didn’t have to be invisible?” Neville asked, clearly on a roll. “Or spelled to not be looked at? What if you were just hidden?”

            It took a second, but Harry finally got the idea.

            “You’re talking about weather conditions, aren’t you?” he raised himself in his seat and clasped his hands on the table, considering the idea.

            “Yes!” Neville replied excitedly. “What if you go on a cloudy or a foggy night? That way you couldn’t be seen easily if you were flying, not even from the towers!”

            “Brilliant idea, Longbottom, and I actually mean that, but unfortunately the forecast is clear for the foreseeable future and we can’t wait around for freak weather.” Draco sighed in a defeated manner.

            “But what if we didn’t wait?” Harry smirked, looking at Draco pointedly.

            Three days later their plan was set in motion. Harry and Hannah were both walking towards the Astronomy Tower under the invisibility cloak, with a basket containing a sleeping Norberta under blankets and what remained of the stuffed teddy bear that Hagrid gave to her for the trip. Suffice it to say, five minutes into the journey back at the castle, Mr. Cuddles met a gruesome and cottony death. The giant man weepily and reluctantly gave his beloved dragon away to the pair after much deliberation and convincing. It took him fifteen minutes to say goodbye to Norberta, which meant that Harry had to hurry to his meeting with Charlie Weasley, as they were running behind schedule.

            He spoke with the lad on the phone a day after the lunch that started this crazy idea. He was an excitable young man and very eager to add a pure-blooded Norwegian Ridgeback to their preserve in the heart of the Carpathian Mountains. They set up a meeting at midnight on the crest of one of the hills overlooking the Forbidden Forest in the distance, which of course was protested mercilessly by his friends ( _“I’m not about to land in the bloody place, I will go over it, calm the bloody hell down!”_ ) but it was their only option. Any other path either led to civilisation or took too much of a detour and this had to be done quickly.

            The plan was that Draco and Hermione would provide a distraction of sorts to the curious inhabitants of the castle that happened to look out of a window. Draco was to go to the lake and use his Elemental powers to create fog from the water which then Hermione would help to direct over the side of the castle that Harry would be most visible from.

            Draco was nervous to say the least, as he didn’t believe he could succeed into covering such a big area in a short amount of time, but on the other hand he was eager to push the limits to his powers for the first time since the troll. And even so, Hermione was with him for a reason, as she was the one best suited at Transfiguration, and modifying a body of water into small enough droplets and in such a quantity that it changed density seemed like the type of task you sent the best in their year at Transfiguration to do.

            “Harry?” whispered Hannah in his ear as they neared the landing to the Observatory.

            “Mm?” he responded simply.

            “Please be careful. I know you’re stronger and more powerful now than at Christmas, but there are still limits to what you can do. Just take care out there, will you?”

            “I promise I’ll try to be cautious, Hannah.” he breathed deeply, already setting himself up for breaking that promise. Somehow, all his plans seemed to have that _one_ particular flaw that changed everything up.

            _“Aww… Little Abbott has a crush on Potter!”_ Draco’s voice came from their earpieces in a sing-a-song tone.

            “Zip it, Malfoy, I’m allowed to be concerned about my friend!” Hannah replied instantly.

            _“You worry too much, mom. He’ll be fine!”_ he puffed, half blowing a raspberry.

            “Says the one who freaked out about the feather-light charm applied to the basket.” Harry teased, making Draco draw in breath audibly for an explanation as to _why that is incredibly important_.

            _“All of you be quiet!”_ Neville reprimanded them, quickly and effectively shutting their eleven year old traps. _“It’s hard enough watching over two different places at the same time when one of your targets is moving!”_

            _‘True’_ Harry thought. Neville had the unfortunate task of watching over them and the security measures placed on their way, both for him and Hannah and the empty classroom on the ground floor that Hermione and Draco were discreetly tucked into at the moment. The blue-eyed boy was currently in the Room, glued to the screen of their board, watching for any sort of movement that came their way.

            They reached the thankfully empty Observatory in the next minute and opened one of the balconies. The air was cold and stingy, still clinging to the last remnants of the Scotland winter, but the altitude made it worse. Harry was thankful for what few warming enchantments he applied to himself earlier.

            “Alright, this is where I leave you.” Hannah announced, taking Harry and Norberta from underneath the cloak. “I’ll join Hermione and Malfoy and then we head out to the lake.” she continued, invisible to Harry, who realised just how weird it was to talk to a disembodied voice and regretted doing it so many times to his friends.

            “Go.” he nodded. “I’ll wait for your signal.” and with that she left, leaving the boy alone with the baby dragon on the marble balcony.

            He tucked himself with the basket into a corner, waiting, watching the grounds through the gaps in the pickets for any sign of his friends, even though he knew he couldn’t. A few minutes later, Hannah regrouped with Hermione and Draco and Harry could hear them in his ear talking. After that, silence, only broken in by Neville moving something around or slightly cursing the _True Scribble_ board for being unresponsive to some of his commands.

            _“Okay, we’re at the shore.”_ Hermione declared, as Harry watched, straining to see, the small patch of sand visible from his spot up in the tower. He couldn’t detect the three, but he could see a strand of water moving against the current and onto the shore, freezing up, then disappearing almost as soon as it came. Then, there was something like an invisible boat disturbing the waves as Draco no doubt made a small ice island that they were moving on.

            _“I take back what I said, you really are something, Malfoy.”_ Hannah whistled impressed.

            _“I do try.”_ the blond replied nonchalantly.

            “Hermione, see if you can do anything about the waves you’re leaving in your leaving in your wake.” Harry added, still watching their trajectory.

            _“Bugger… Hold on, let me!”_ Draco huffed in annoyance at forgetting such an important detail, before the trail of the invisible island stopped appearing.

            _“Don’t over-exert yourself, Draco.”_ Hermione worriedly added.

            _“I’m fine, honestly, now stop fretting and be still!_ ” Draco made a noise that seemed rather undignified.

            _“Hand me one of those pillows from my backpack, Hermione, my arse is uncomfortable and freezing_. _”_ Hannah complained and Harry made the realisation that they had to be sitting down so that the cloak could cover them and their platform. In his mind, he steeled himself to be quick on his way as to not let them freeze in the middle of the lake. _“Why couldn’t we do this from the shore?”_ Hannah continued.

            _“Because it works better if I’m nearer the bulk of the water, and in the middle of it is as close as I can get. Don’t ask why, I just feel more in control when I do.”_ Draco replied without the malice in his voice one would expect from such a reply. _“Alright, I think this is it. Let me anchor it.”_

            _“Exactly how are you going to –“_ Hermione started, but Draco did something then that made her shut up. Harry couldn’t see what he did and the dark water gave nothing away, but he assumed it was impressive.

            _“Okay, done. Now for the tricky part of our plan._ ” Draco declared ceremoniously.

            _“And you don’t think the merpeople are going to notice a giant icicle that came out of nowhere and probably hit one of their houses or something?”_ Hannah reprimanded the boy.

            _“Bunch of worry warts you all are… The merpeople have their territory nearer to the castle and to the river that goes to the Atlantic, in the deepest part, which is_ nowhere near here _! What you need to worry about is if the Giant Squid has a sudden craving for ice-cream at this hour._ ” he laughed by himself at his joke.

            _“Quit playing around and continue._ ” Neville sighed deeply. _“It’s nearing midnight._ ”

            They all sobered up for the next part. Harry himself had to keep at bay and not fly off already, so eager he was to finally fly free, without a broom. He knew he could do this, the magic inside of him was singing tonight, louder than the rest of the castle, shouting inside his chest.

            He waited for a minute, before the first wisps of fog came from the lake. Harry had to hand it to Draco, what he was doing right now was downright incredible: a large area surrounding what he deduced was their location started to exude steam like it was a kettle on fire, only in a much slower manner.

            _“_ Nebulas Aquam. Ventulus _”_ whispered Hermione as the fog suddenly started to lift and the anticipation finally got to Harry. He stood up, looking over the forest to his right, almost trembling. But he had to be steady, he had to have a clear mind about this. A small life, literally in his hands, was counting on it. He drew a few deep breaths to calm his nerves and waited for the signal.

            _“Be safe, Harry. Please._ ” Neville talked in his ear.

            “I will.” Harry said, decidedly more sure than he felt, as the fog rose and rose, engulfing the castle and as the lake disappeared from underneath him.

            _“Be ready… Now!_ ” Draco gave the start as Harry pushed with all his might from the ground, gripping the basket tight.

            It was exhilarating.

            This was nowhere near the same as being on a broom, there was no stick underneath him that he could guide, that no matter how many tuning spells it had still moved slower than his muscles, that took an effort to turn. No, this was all him, free and alive above the ground as the trees beneath him moved and singed praises to the heavens about his prowess, achieving something people only dreamed about.

            He was _flying_.

            Harry was half tempted to make tricks like on the broom, but promised himself he would do them on the way back, as he had a job to do at the moment.

            _“You okay up there? You haven’t crashed or anything like that, I hope.”_ Draco brought him back from his glee, making his muscles jump and his path in the air suddenly jerked with his body as it shook against nothing.

            _‘Okay, so any motion I make is important. Good to know.’_ Harry thought to himself before replying to his friends.

            “It’s _amazing_!” he shouted happily, laughing and finally giving in and doing one small graceful twirl in the air, horizontally, holding the basket tight against his chest as his vision was swirled and the world was upside-down from every direction possible. Not having the ground as a reference was simply wonderful.

            _“I’m happy you’re having fun, but I could swear I could hear you_ without _the handsfree, so pipe it down!_ ” Hermione admonished him.

            “Right.” Harry turned red from shame. “Sorry.” he continued his path onward, eyes watering from the wind. “I think at this rate I should make it…” he started but the woven handle in his hand was shaking violently and a muted sound of distress was heard from below him somewhere.

            Norberta, it seemed, had woken up from all the commotion and was now attempting to escape her basket, panicked over the current situation. Her head found a way to get out from under the blankets and she was wailing, looking for protection against this new environment that she hadn’t been in before. She was flying for the first time, but it wasn’t with her wings, she didn’t even know she had them before, she just wanted down back on the ground _immediately_.

            “… on time.” Harry finished lamely as Norberta grew louder and more frightened than ever.

            _“Harry, what’s happening?”_ someone asked in his ear, but the baby dragon had finally enough and crawled its way to the edge of the basket, and before anyone could do anything, she fell, dragging the blanket alongside her and a few pieces of Mr. Cuddles.

            “NO!” Harry roared, filled with dread, as he turned downwards to catch her, one hand in front of him trying to use his power to stop her descent, but it was to almost no use. Hannah was right, Harry had some limits, he couldn’t concentrate on keeping himself moving and trying to suspend Norberta at the same time, even more so as she was flailing and swishing through the air with the too new wings.

            She was wailing and crying, and if Harry wasn’t hyperaware of the incoming crown of the trees, ready to hit them painfully, his heart would break over hearing the small, helpless dragon cry her last few seconds as she tried to impossibly take flight.

            Prepared for oncoming hits, Harry pushed himself with everything he had with the sound of a small reverbing engine in his wake, as his vision was blurred, but he finally caught up with Norberta. With the last of his instincts, he tucked her back in the basket and held it close on to his chest so she would be safe, and turned around, mere milliseconds before his back violently hit the trees with a resounding _crack_ ringing throughout the silent night.

            The world turned into a vision of darkness, pain, stings from all over his body, the sound of more branches being destroyed in his path to collision, the struggling of the dragon all over his chest and the small patch of fire that exploded from the basket, thankfully nowhere in his direction. He tried to make some move to take flight again, but without seeing where he would go, he fumbled uselessly in the air, hitting everything from every direction, and just think up could mean down to earth from his point of view, as he had no way of knowing. Not having the earth as a system of reference suddenly sucked.

            His salvation finally came after the few seconds of confusion and he saw the ground of the corner of his right eye, as he was falling towards it face first at a near vertical angle on his side. He drew himself upwards as much as he could, but there were no anti-inertia spells this far out, so his body was still falling somewhat even as he pulled up. He didn’t crash land, _thank god_ , but his feet tripped over the ground, making the boy topple over in the air as he rose just a bit. He hit a mould of earth with the right side of his leg, finally connecting to the ground, making him roll around in the soft dirt a few times, taking the air out of his lungs, before finally, finally stopping lamely at the roots of a tree, the dragging of the dirt having slowed his progress.

            _“HARRY!!!”_ someone shouted in his already damaged ear, probably Neville, because some part of his brain supplied that the other three were still in shock and were most likely covering their mouths to not scream.

            “I’m alive!” he huffed with a groan, trying to make his vision _stop_ spinning around and his dinner not exit the way it came. “Agh…” he groaned, as he tried to move to stay up and a collective breath was released in his thankfully still in place. “A little banged up from the fall, but alive.” he laughed despite himself.

            _“What happened?!”_ Hermione demanded.

            “Norberta woke up and was frightened by where she was and then she fell before I could stop here. I manged to catch her, but we crash landed in the forest.” he said, finally letting go of his iron grip on the slightly burned and cracked basket that still held an unmoving but alive dragon that was now decidedly hiding under her wings and would not move an inch, lest she would be in danger yet again. “She’s okay.” he smiled, adrenaline filled tears running down his dirt covered cheeks, throwing the basket to the side and reaching out to comfort her with a scratched arm. She jumped under his touch and made a strangled sound, but he pressed on.

            “There, there… It’s all right now.” he croaked, half sobbing from relief. “You’re safe now, no more falling.” the boy petted her as she began to relax and come out from underneath her wings.

            _“Harry, get out of there immediately!”_ Hannah spoke in his ear, but he was too weak to do anything at the moment. Everything hurt, from the tip of his toes to the hairs on his head and his scratches were starting to sting uncomfortably.

            “Give me a minute, Han, god!” he groaned impetuously, just wanting a rest for a goddamn second already.

            _“Harry, it’s called the Forbidden Forest of a bloody reason!”_ Hermione pipped in his ear. _“Who knows what’s out there?”_

            _“If you get eaten by a werewolf or something…”_ Draco warned, but Neville talked over him

            _“The full moon was on the eight, three weeks ago. We had to use the moonstone for Potions back then, remember? It needed a full lunar cycle.”_

“Will you all just be quiet for a second while I catch my breath? You’re not the one who fell out of the sky and into trees!” Harry snapped at them, laboured breath making the threatening tone look weak.

            His phone was severely banged up, screen cracked and corners turned inside.

            “ _Reparo._ ” Harry whispered, making the lines disappear one by one and the edges turn back in their place as if someone was blowing air inside his device, before it finally presented itself like new a second later, with the sound of ice breaking.

            _“Wow, I can even hear you better than before. What did you do?_ ” Neville found himself to be the first one to break the silence.

            “Fixed my whole phone.” Harry groaned, tucking it back into his pants and carefully standing up with an armful of Norberta.

            _“Harry… Don’t move. And be quiet.”_ Neville suddenly said with a low tone, making Harry go into full defence mode.

            He quickly looked around, but his vision was still not recovering fast enough. He couldn’t see whatever it was that Neville picked up on the camera attached to the neckline of his shirt, but he slowly scooted Norberta lower so that she couldn’t obscure the view.

            _“Do not make a sound and do not panic.”_ Neville said with a trembling voice and he could hear Hermione gasp for some unknown reason. _“There is something there, to your front and to the right, behind those trees. It keeps moving in front of something white. I suggest you keep very, very quiet and slowly lift off from there.”_

But Harry knew he was done for. Whatever Neville could see, that he still had trouble locating, would’ve absolutely heard Harry as he landed just a minute before. There was no way it was distracted enough that he couldn’t have noticed something like that.

            In a moment of insanity filled by curiosity, Harry thought to use his magic to finally clear his vision and the whole world lit up like it was seconds before sunset.

            Bad move.

            The creature beyond the trees in front of Harry made a gurgling sound as it turned towards its new prey, namely a scrawny looking boy with messy hair. There was something around what Harry thought was the mouth of the humanoid looking thing, something silvery like mercury, but for some reason it reminded Harry of _blood._

            His forehead, which Harry noted that it was hurting more than the rest of him, was now positively throbbing, before a searing pain went through it, like it never had before. No, not his forehead… His _scar_.

            The creature screeched like nothing Harry ever heard before, covering the screaming in hear earpiece that his friends were now doing. _It_ lunged towards Harry, who didn’t have a clue what to do, frozen on the spot, one hand clutching Norberta and the other raising to defend himself, to do _anything_ to stop the oncoming promise of death.

            He didn’t have to do anything, because the little dragon in his arm growled fiercely and spew a ball of fire, too big for her to have actually done it by herself. But there she was, protecting herself and Harry, with her surprisingly powerful fire-breathing.

            The creature before Harry took a step back and managed not to get singed by them, but before it could try again, the sound of hooves stomping on the ground could be heard from somewhere behind Harry. Not a moment too soon, the hooded creature looked up and was immediately confronted by a larger figure, with the body of a massive horse and the torso of a man. Apparently realising it was outnumbered, the creature retreated back through the trees, where it disappeared into the night.

            Harry watched with trepidation, as did his friends through the camera on him, as the centaur approached, calm and collected. His long, silvery hair draped perfectly over his man-shoulders while his blue eyes bore into the young boy with a fiery determination.

              “Harry Potter. We finally meet.” he greeted like a normal person in a normal setting, like Harry wasn’t about to die for the second time that evening just seconds prior. “It seems fate has an odd sense of humour that you should find yourself in this place at this time.” he spoke knowingly, as if there was a hidden meaning behind his words.

            “I get that a lot.” Harry decided to speak, still cautious around the other.

            The centaur gave a booming laugh, one that could attract more of those things, but he didn’t seem to care.

            “Yes, you do, don’t you? I have watched your progress for some time now, of things you have done, things you are doing and even things that are yet to come.” he responded cryptically.

            _“Centaurs can divine the future by reading the stars.”_ Hannah supplied meekly in his earpiece.

            “Yes, we do.” the centaur nodded, still speaking in a way calmer voice than Harry felt was necessary, given the situation. Hannah gasped loudly, as did Draco, while Hermione and Neville decidedly shut their mouths. “And while we are not always correct, there are always signs to something happening or about to happen. Mars is coming into view soon, young Harry Potter.” he continued, looking up at the night sky, but Harry still had trouble locating the planet with his expensive telescope, much less with the naked eye, so he kept his vision on the…person.

            “What was that?” he asked, the curiosity getting the better of him, which the centaur noted with amusement. “Back there, that… thing!”

            “Yes, _thing_ , it’s a much better description of what he used to be. Tell me, have you spoken to Hagrid recently?” he raised an eyebrow.

            “Yes, but probably not about what you’re about to tell me.” Harry deduced.

            “I have seen your clever wit, but it is more entertaining in the flesh.” the centaur gave a low chuckle, before his face turned grave and turned to where Harry first saw the creature. “What you see there between the roots of the trees, is the body of a unicorn. Killed, for blood.”

            “There are dangerous things here that hunt, obviously.” Harry made a face at that and Norberta cooed unhappily.

            “You misunderstand.” the centaur turned back to look at Harry. “I meant it literally. This unicorn, like so many others in the last few months, has been killed and drained entirely of its blood by what you just encountered earlier.”

            _“How in the loving fu-“_ Draco started in a more disgusted and horrified voice than Harry had ever heard from him, but someone, probably Hannah, shut him up instantly.

            “The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenceless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips.” the centaur went on to explain. “There are few who would do such a thing just to survive. And fewer that still do.”

            “So that was a _person_?” Harry swallowed, his throat dry.

            “Less than that now, but essentially yes. Tell me, Harry Potter, do you know what is in hidden in the castle at this very moment?”

            Not keen on knowing just how the freaking half-man-half-horse figured that out when it took Harry months, the boy just nodded.

            “And can you think of someone that would do anything to get it, anything to survive?” he continued.

            Harry thought for a moment, but the only thing that flashed before his mind eye was a green lightning and the dull memory of pain in his scar.

            “Indeed.” the centaur spoke, as if he knew where Harry’s mind just went. “You must tread carefully, Harry Potter, things are more dangerous than they seem at first. Now, I would offer you a ride out of the forest, but something tells me you can take care of that yourself.” he smiled.

            “Thank you… Um… Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” Harry tried lamely, adjusting the surprisingly docile Norberta in his arm.

            “My manners shame me.” the centaur gave. “I am called Firenze. Forgive me, in my excitement to meet you I have forgotten to introduce myself. I have waited almost three hundred years for this moment, after all.” he chuckled.

            “Sorry, _what_?” Harry couldn’t stop himself. “How could you have waited for me for that long? I’m only eleven going on twelve for god’s sake!”

            “Ah, but your coming was centuries in the making. Farewell, young Harry. I shall see you again soon.” Firenze declared and off he went galloping merrily from where he came, so sudden was his movement, leaving Harry alone to ponder just what in the world happened.

            Norberta woke him up from his daze, nipping playfully at his fingers, not unlike Hedwig would occasionally do. He gripped her tight and he went upwards with speed, before taking off to his destination. Suddenly, flying seemed less like a novelty now.

            _“Alright, just what the hell was that about?”_ Hannah broke first.

            “Something wicked this way comes.” Harry replied cryptically. “Look, we’ll talk more once we’re all in the Room. I can see Charlie up on the top of the mountain, I’ll hand him Norberta and I’m coming back straight away.” he continued, turning his off the speaker in his ear, but still leaving the call on so that they could hear what he was saying.

            Charlie and two figures were loitering about in the dark, sitting down on some rocks, with hovering broomsticks next to them. Harry reached them in less than a minute, making sure to touch down somewhere unseen by them, as discreetly as possible. He then walked the path up the top, feeling every rock pushing into the soles of his feet, body still hurting from his crash.

            “Charlie?” he called out as he got into view.

            He was faced by the tall redhead with freckles all over his face, who beamed at him, looking like a much older Ron Weasley and much nicer too. He was flanked by two older guys, both of them solid, tall and dark, with matching stares and with the same nose. Harry guessed they were brothers, almost twins, but one of them had his hair in a short bun and had a beard, while the other only had his eyebrows as the only hair on his head. Harry noted that all of them, Charlie included, had some burns on their arms.

            “Harry, mate! Was wondering if you were coming!” Charlie greeted him.

            “Took the scenic route.” Harry joked, trying to conceal his pain as he approached with Norberta, who was suddenly very tired.

            “Bloody hell, what happened to you?” Charlie then noticed all the cuts and bruises on Harry.

            “Took the _really_ scenic route.” Harry found himself retorting, absolutely done for the night with everything.

            “E bine?” asked the shaved twin with concern.

            “Are you okay?” Charlie asked in the same tone.

            “I’m fine, honestly, nothing some ointment can’t patch up. I swear, I’m fine!” Harry recoiled from Charlie touching his face to look better at him. “Just went into a tree.” he grumbled for effect, hoping the faux embarrassment on his face would be enough to stop the third degree coming his way.

            “Right… If you say so.” Charlie added with little belief to Harry’s explanation. “This is Bogdan and this is Vlad.” he motioned to the manbun guy and to the ex-convict looking guy respectively.

            “And this is Norberta.” Harry added happily, placing her in Charlie’s arms.

            “Wonderful! Just wonderful! Uită-te la ea, Bogdane! Nu e minunată?” the redhead exclaimed, showing her to the others.

             “Da, da, bine, haide odată, mi-e frig și mă dor coaiele de la matura aia nenorocită, să mergem odată!” the manbun guy snappishly replied, before walking back to his broom and waited.

            “Forgive me brother.” the shaved guy apologised to Harry before shooting a dark look to his sibling.

            “Yes, forgive Bogdan, Harry,” Charlie laughed as he tucked Norberta gently into a much sturdier and comfortable container than what Harry had before, “that’s not the stick he wants between his legs at the moment.”

            “Charming.” Harry laughed despite himself as he shook hands with Vlad and Charlie.

            “Need a lift or something?” the older boy offered as they mounted their brooms.

            “Oh, no, I won’t be needing that. I’ll be fine. And more careful now.” Harry offered. Charlie didn’t look convinced, but still accepted Harry’s decision. “Bye guys!” he waved at them as they took flight and directed themselves to Hogsmeade.

            “See you around, Harry!” Charlie bid him farewell.

 “Goodbye, Norberta! Thank you!” he shouted at their retreating forms and he could _swear_ he hear one last happy gurgle from her directed at him as they became smaller and smaller. He waited, still smiling, as they completely disappeared from view, after which he flew back towards the castle even faster than before. His smile faltered as he remembered what happened down in the forest and with a sigh, barely wanting to return to the real world, he unmuted his call.

“If you are all quite finished shouting!” he spoke over the voices in his ear, effectively silencing his friends. “I’d like to see you all in the Room in a few minutes.” he lowered his voice to a normal tone.

_“Right, we’ll make our way back. The fog should keep up until you get here.”_ Hannah replied in a tired voice.

“No need.” Harry had an idea. “I’ll help. Neville, be a dear and open the balcony for me, would you? The rest of you, stay where you are for now.”

Two minutes later he could see the outline of the castle as he entered the fog they created earlier and made his way to what he knew was supposed to be an empty wall on the side of the building on the seventh floor, but coming closer to it actually revealed the balcony he mentioned to Neville. He landed almost gracefully, considering, and was soon attacked via hug by the other boy, who held him so tightly that Harry thought he would burst.

“Don’t _ever_ do that again!” Neville shook him after releasing Harry from his deathly grip, looking him dead in the eye, before resuming into a more natural embrace, without the added suffocation part.

“You know I don’t mean to!” Harry whined into Neville’s shoulder, but appreciated the warming hug the other boy was still giving him.

_“Still freezing here!”_ Hannah groaned impatiently.

“Yes, yes, I’m getting to you!” Harry sighed as he withdrew himself from Neville. “Signal me with your phone or something so that I can see you.” he added.

From somewhere in front of them and below, there was a faint light coming from the waters. Closing his eyes and breathing in deeply, Harry reached out with his arm and searched with his magic down to where his friends were floating away. He found them, or rather their presence, sitting on top of a small, circular platform, with their back to each other, huddled close.

“Draco, get rid of the anchor but not your island. Hermione?” he said, not actually waiting for a response. “Warning.”

And with that, he pulled the platform from the water as steadily as he could, moving it up in the air with much effort, ignoring the screams of protest or excitement in his ear.

_“Merlin’s beard!”_

_“YES!”_

_“HARRISON JAMES POTTER, I WILL STRANGLE YOU!”_

Harry pulled up a translucent cloud that was dripping water from its bottom and he settled it with ease on the balcony. Hermione pulled the cloak from over them, revealing them and the platform, which now had sort of a half wall of ice encircling on its sides, possibly so that they wouldn’t fall off. Harry quickly caught his cloak instinctively, before taking a step back so that Hermione wouldn’t actually go ahead with her threat.

They all looked tired and cold, Hannah the most, but they still hugged Harry fiercely. Even Hermione.

“That was scary. Brilliant, but scary.” Draco found himself saying, before Neville draped blankets on everyone’s backs to stop the oncoming cold they were going to have. Draco puffed in annoyance and chose to give his blanket to Hermione and Hannah to use. “Thank you, Longbottom, but the cold doesn’t bother me, especially when it’s from my creation.” he explained, nose stuck up in the air, probably making up from daring to show affection earlier.

“Alright, just what the bloody hell happened in the Forbidden Forest?” Hannah wanted to know, as Harry closed the balcony with a flick of the hand and they all went to their seats in front of the floating smartboard. “And _what_ was that creepy hooded thing that attacked you?”

“Wait…” Harry realised as he sat down in his chair, clinging tightly to his warm blanket. “How do you know what it looked like?”

Hermione moved her hand underneath her blanket and a second later she produced her phone. On the screen, Harry could see the scene in front of him, with everyone looking in his direction expectantly, just like it was happening in real life. “I patched us in your camera’s live feed when you took flight so that we could also see. It did get boring, standing there in the lake with nothing else to do but wait.”

“Right.” Harry agreed with a bit of shame, before pulling his own phone and taking control of the board, turning off the camera and scrolling through some files. “Before I left, I had the idea to record everything on my camera, you know, to review my flying skills and whatnot, but now it’s going to come in handy for something else.”

The video from tonight started playing, but Harry fast forwarded to where he crashed, turning down the volume. The scene of his falling replayed for everyone to see, a world of leaves and branches in a flurry of movement. It was weird and scary to see it from this perspective, Harry agreed, as Neville suddenly remembered his friend was actually injured and went to hand him the ointment Draco had procured from the infirmary, just in case.

“Thank you, Nev.” Harry said, gratefully applying some ointment on his wounds that closed up instantly. He then skipped the video over the late stages of his crash and forwarded it to where he met the hooded figure. “Here.” he said, pausing exactly before it lunged at him. “Everyone, meet Voldemort.” he declared without further ceremony.

_Smash_.

Harry jumped in the direction of the sound to see Hannah and Draco’s cups of tea crashing to the ground from shock, while Neville and Hermione both stopped breathing in terror. Harry could admit to himself that he was purposely a bit dramatic with the reveal, but he hadn’t quite had this in mind.

“No, this is impossible, it can’t be You-Know-Who!” Neville cried. “So close to the school?”

“He’s alive…” Draco muttered, hands in his face.

“How can you be sure it’s him?” Hermione asked in a grave voice.

“Something Firenze said.” Harry admitted. “He asked me to think about who was so desperate to survive that they would do anything. And to drink unicorn blood… I can only think of one person weak and struggling enough that they would do it. And my scar…” he said, making everyone turn to him in unison. “It hurt so much, like it never did before.” Harry continued, looking at his hands, embarrassed for having been entirely useless in that whole encounter just because his forehead decided to act up. “It stung sometimes, mostly around Halloween, but I never paid much attention to it. It was just a wound. A _magical_ one, I know that now, but still a wound. That’s why I am sure it’s _him_.” he finished.

Everyone was quiet for a few moments, trying to process the right words to speak, but Harry knew what was on their minds. The Stone. It was one thing that it was sought after some disgruntled teacher that wanted eternal life and wealth, it was another when it was the target of a dangerous Dark Lord, and immortality for the latter was something they didn’t want to think about.

“So what do we do?” Neville asked in a small voice, but like the rest of them, he already knew what Harry was going to say.

“We go beyond the trapdoor as soon as possible.” Harry stood up and looked over the frightened faces of everyone. “And we take the Philosopher’s Stone before Quirrell or Voldemort ever get a chance to touch it. This isn’t some simple thief wanting to get rich fast anymore, this is a sinister plot that could bring back the most dangerous man in the wizarding world. And I’m not going to let him! He killed my parents, he killed so many, _tortured_ and destroyed beyond counting! It stops here!” he declared.

 His friends looked at each other, questioningly, and Harry felt something in his chest that felt strangely like _rejection_ for a few seconds as they silently deliberated. But his fears were not warranted. His friends proved a moment later that they were the most brilliant of them all.

“We’re with you.” Draco declared, standing up.

“Always.” Neville joined Harry’s side.

“Without question.” Hermione supplied, joining them.

“Someone has to save your scrawny arse!” Hannah sighed with false disinterest, but her smile betrayed her. “No matter what.” she added in a more serious tone.

Harry looked at them with tears in his eyes, so touched by their loyalty and dedication. And the feeling was mutual. He would do anything to keep them safe, as would they.

But it would be only later that Harry truly realised just how much it meant that they all stood up in that hidden room on that particular night and declared to stop the Dark Lord Voldemort from gaining power.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This was one of my favourite chapters to write so far! I mean it, the idea to just have Harry crash land into the Forbidden Forest was a brilliant way to get him there, because of course he wouldn't be caught by Filch or someone while delivering Norberta. And I love where I ended up with it, so I'm sticking with it. It may be odd for him to be flying already, I had thought about waiting for the right moment to write it, but it seemed natural. And if you look hard enough, you might see a clue how. I'm not telling you, of course, it's one of those things I'm saving for the endgame, but I do love it when I subconsciously set myself up with a precedent (really, our brains are smarter than us sometimes).   
> The pacing may seem a bit odd in this humongous chapter of mine, but this is the penultimate chapter before we finish book one. The next one will be even bigger than this one, I can already tell, and I'll begin to work on it the moment I finish posting this and grab a cup of coffee from my kitchen. I will do a 'The Good Wife' bit where the chapter titles have the same number of words as the number of the book in the series, with the sidenote that the article in the front doesn't count. So, a Book 1 chapter will be titled "The X", a Book 2 will be "The X X", and so on and so forth, and then from the fifth book it will start to descend in the number of words per chapter title, until we reach Book 7 and it will be back to "The X".  
> Also, you may have noticed, I am starting to set up Harry as something greater than he realises he is, because there is an explanation for what he can do and who he is, it's one of the grander plots that I'm doing, and it's weird and fantastic at the same time, and it's one of the reasons this is fanfiction, but the truth is much more complicated. Trust me, I have chapters in my head dedicated entirely to explain it. But that's for later, and next chapter will touch a bit on that as we conclude the first school year (after which I will painfully not mention it except sporadically enough that I kill some of you from teasing).  
> Until next time!


	13. The Trapdoor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry, Neville, Hermione, Hannah and Draco come to a terrifying realisation and so the race for the Philosohper's Stone is on, as they finally delve down the hidden door on a dark corridor.  
> (Carefully scroll to not get spoiled and also please read the chapter notes at the end)

 

 

 

            Quiet.

            That’s how Harry would describe the next couple of months that passed by him in a hurry. Quiet and filled with the sense of dread. He had absolutely no idea how they all passed their exams with the threat of Voldemort or Quirrell showing up from behind an alcove and turn him into paste whenever he went anywhere. It was certainly something he would ponder for years to come.

            Together with his friends he decided to concentrate more on their studies rather than putting their plan into motion, because, as Hermione put it eloquently, with Dumbledore around, Voldemort wouldn’t dare touch the Stone or Harry.

            But the aging Headmaster couldn’t be around forever, because Harry was still reminded of when he abruptly left Christmas breakfast not long ago. Such a busy and important man was bound to promptly up and go at a moment’s notice, and Harry was dreading to think the unthinkable.

            Draco noticed that Harry began to sleep less and eat less as the stress of the matter started to take over him and he was aware of the fact that Harry started having nightmares about unicorn blood and men with chilling laughs as they killed his parents. Whether it was Quirrell or Voldemort depended on the day.

            “It may just be stress from the exams that are adding to your state.” Hermione said as they exited the last of their final exams, this one being History of Magic. Binns was boring, as per usual, and Harry was half tempted during the last hour to cheat just so that he would do something other than snore into his paper. “I actually woke up in the middle of the night before the Transfiguration one and started to recite everything I could remember about the Switching Spell. Padma had to calm me down.” she laughed at herself.

            She really did come around during this year, as did the rest of them. She was now more aware that being proper and serious all the time was exhausting and having just a little fun never hurt no one, Draco was now more honest, open and helpful towards others (still a work in progress), Neville was more confident in his abilities and managed not to fumble in front of Snape, and Hannah… Well, Hannah was mostly the same, but Hannah was lovely as she was.

            “Ugh, at least it’s done!” the blonde groaned, rubbing at her temples as they walked towards lunch. “I swear, it’s like they’re deliberately trying to mess your brains, making you remember a bunch of facts before you put them on paper, but they’re testing your ability to memorise, rather than perform.”

            “We have practical tests as well, Abbott, some which you passed disgracefully easy, I might add.” Draco drawled, raising an eyebrow.

            “You’re just moaning because you hate History of Magic.” Neville added, ganging up on her with Draco teasingly.

            “ _I do_!” she accentuated, turning around to face them while she walked backwards, something Harry was prepared to do something about when she inevitably tripped. “It’s absolutely rubbish, and if it was taught in a manner not meant to knock out an insomniac, I might _actually like it_. Imagine that. Me. Liking a subject other than Charms.” she complained as she nearly collided with a group of older students, but thankfully Harry made her jump towards them and turn around before that could happen.

            “If we could use our eyes to watch where we’re going next time…” he jokingly reprimanded the now blushing girl. “I am starving. Oh, I hope we have chips today!”

            “And some fish!” Draco mused dreamily.

            “Ew, okay, Katara, settle down. Fish are gross, I’ll have you know!” Hannah made a face as they sat down.”

            “I told you to stop calling me that!” Draco went red in the face.

            “He’s right, Hannah, he’s more Zuko than anything.” Harry joined in, trying to be happy for once and have fun with his friends.

            “I wouldn’t laugh if I were you, Uncle Iroh.” Hannah sniggered.

            “Said King Bumi…” Neville quietly added.

            “Oi!” Hannah tried to be insulted, but her laugh escaped her lips nonetheless.

            “Enough Avatar references for one sitting, my head hurts!” Hermione put an end to the shenanigans.

            A moment of silence. And then…

            “And Draco is actually Azula.” Hermione said in a low voice as she took a sip of tea, prompting everyone at the table to laugh themselves silly.

            It was decidedly wonderful that they could let go and just be kids talking about cartoon characters for a moment. Harry himself found that he was laughing harder than he had in a long time. But as it often happens, all good things must come to an end.

            “…and technically we had a dragon with us, so Harry is actually…Wait, Harry? Are you all right?” Hannah realised his friend was staring horrified at his uneaten lunch in front of him

            But the boy was lost in his own thoughts, as he suddenly came to the realisation that he forgot to ask himself a very important question all this time, that he did not make that _one_ connection that changed everything.

            “I have to go.” he said simply, taking his bag and running out the door before anyone can stop him. His friends shouted after him, but to no avail, so they decided to join after him.

            “Harry, slow down, what is going on?!” Hermione shouted after him as they hurried to catch up to the surprisingly fast Harry.

            “Yeah, you said you were hungry! What’s so important now that it can’t wait?” Neville asked, but Harry had forgotten simple concepts like hunger and tiredness.

            “Don’t you think…” he started as he made his way to the Clock Tower Courtyard, “That it’s a bit _convenient_ that Hagrid just _happened_ to have a dragon egg when all he wanted all along was one?” he explained, blood rising to his temples in anger at himself as they quickly traversed the courtyard and the other realised they were making their way to the giant man himself.

            “And?!” his friends shouted in unison at him, but he was undeterred as he made his way down the hill.

            “Who just _has_ a dragon egg on themselves and happens to be in the exact same place as a man who wants one and is the only one who knows how to get past a dangerous creature that’s guarding a powerful magical artefact!?” he gritted his teeth. “ _Why did I not see it before?_ ”

            His friends were stunned into silence, realising the horrible implication that Harry set upon them, but still managed to keep up with him as they neared the hut. Hagrid was on the steps, playing with one of his carved flutes, before noticing them.

            “Oh, ‘ello there!” he greeted them. “All done with yer final exams?” he smiled at the five.

            “Hagrid!” Harry exclaimed at him, making the man jump in surprise, clearly not expecting a panicked Harry on him at this hour. “Who gave you the dragon egg? Did you see their face?”

            “I dunno.” the man blinked in confusion as he tried to recall. “He ‘as a shy bloke, that one, kept buying me drinks.” he continued, as Harry’s heart beat in his ears, trembling. “We talked abou’ magical creatures and the ones the Ministry say are _dangerous_ ,” he scoffed, “but that are just misunderstood, is all!”

            Harry began to relax a bit, maybe he had overreacted and everything was still fine, but then Hagrid continued.

            “So I told ‘im about Fluffy and he kept askin’ abou’ ‘im, said he’s as behaved as they come and that one song is all it’s needed to put ‘im to sleep!” he laughed.

            Dread. Anxiety. Horror. Guilt. Fear.

            All of that was swirling around his brain, but try as he might, he couldn’t deny the truth of the matter…

            Quirrell finally knew how to get past Fluffy.

            Harry took one look at his frightened friends and saw their faces change colour, one at a time, as they all came to the same conclusion as him. It was like a million alarms rang inside of Harry’s brain, because Hagrid had Norberta back in late March, it was now May going into June, the end of the school year, Quirrell had more than enough time to go down that trapdoor and steal the Stone.

            But then he calmed down a bit after he remembered that the man had been teaching Defence still, nothing out of the ordinary, even after he got the information. So, either he had been waiting for the perfect opportunity to grab it or he had it and now was quietly waiting for his chance to disappear during summer vacation. The latter was not something Harry was prepared to think about.

            “Hagrid, I need you to answer me this and think very carefully.” Harry started, making the man frown in confusion. “Do you still have tea with Dumbledore regularly?” he asked, barely restraining himself from trembling.

            “Yes, every few days or so.” Hagrid complied without question, clearly intimidated by the crazy young boy in front of him.

            “Did he happen to mention leaving the castle for other business?” Harry drew in a breath, holding it.

            “Now that yeh mention it, no. Professor Dumbledore’s been very busy here these past few months, end of the school year and such, like always. And I know he cancelled meetings with the Minister more than once because he was needed here. Actually, he’s coming by later, if yeh want to join!” Hagrid added enthusiastically, but before Harry could respond, his phone pinged with an owl hooting. Hagrid drew the small TV from his breast pocket and read the notification, before eyeing Harry suspiciously. “Dumbledore just cancelled our tea, said he’s busy at the Ministry today, urgent matter, won’t be back until later tonight. What did yeh do?” he added, but Harry already turned around and started running back to the castle.

            “Sorry, Hagrid! We’ll explain later!” Hermione added hastily as the other younglings followed their leader.

            “Bloody Orpheus with his blasted lyre and music going to the bloody Underworld to rescue his love, _why the hell did I not see it before_?!” Harry mumbled to himself angrily.

            “Harry, stop!” Hannah grabbed him by the hand, finally putting an end to all the running around. The boy turned to look at her, anger in his face, but one look at their worried expressions drained him of all his wrath. “You can’t go on like this! Just calm down, take a deep breath and _think_ for one second!” she urged him.

            “Okay…” he said after a second, breathing in. “Okay, so Quirrell gave Hagrid the dragon egg and now he knows how to subdue Fluffy. Dumbledore is gone for the moment and this means Quirrell will go after the Stone.”

            “How much do you want to bet it’s a setup?” Draco found his voice, making every eye turn on him. “That Quirrell had enough of waiting around for the old man to leave his post and sent out a false emergency message to draw him out?”

            “I’m betting my entire fortune.” Harry agreed. “This was too out of the blue for it to be a coincidence, with school ending soon.”

            “Call him!” Neville intoned. “Call Dumbledore and tell him!”

            Harry pondered for a moment, because this was not something he wanted to do, but he was desperate and scared and saw no other option at the moment. He immediately dialled the Headmaster’s number, but it was in vain.

            “Goes straight to voicemail.” he groaned.

            “Then we go to a teacher! Snape, McGonagall, bloody _Binns_ if we have to!” Hermione cried.

            “How about Lupin?” Hannah supplied.

            “No.” Harry decided. “Either they won’t believe us or they will punish us for sticking our noses where we aren’t concerned. Going to Dumbledore is one thing, Snape or McGonagall will have our heads. And Remus isn’t aware of any of this, I’m sure of it.” Harry realised. “It will take too long to explain and we don’t have the time.”

            “We have some time.” Draco said. “Quirrell has classes until later this afternoon.”

            “What’s to stop him from calling in sick?” Hannah thought out loud.

            “A mandatory trip to Madame Pomfrey.” Harry explained as he bid them to follow him to the Room. “He has to announce on his personal tablet that he’s not attending classes for any given reason, medical makes Pomfrey get a notification and all others go to his direct superior, or acting superior, which right now is McGonagall. And if he doesn’t clock in, McGonagall still gets notified. If the Stone goes missing at the same time Dumbledore is gone and he suddenly leaves class, who do you think everyone will think is responsible?” he continued as they climbed the stairs.

            “So we have to go there and take it before he does.” Hannah said what was on everyone’s mind.

            “Precisely.” Harry said, before stopping on the second-floor landing. “I know you all said that you’re with me on this, but this is my fight, not yours, I won’t make you follow me somewhere you don’t want to go.” he said in a lower voice, turning to them.

            “Don’t be daft!” Hannah punched him in the shoulder, making him wince in pain. She could hit, that one. “Stop wallowing in self-sacrifice and tell us the plan already! I know you have one, so don’t try it.” she added as Harry wanted to protest that he was that predictable and paranoid, but she was right.

            “I might have… something.” he added as they took the shortcut to the fifth floor through one of the portraits near the Charms classroom. “I kept thinking that we constantly find ourselves in situations where we can get really hurt a lot and we need to protect ourselves a bit better.”

            “What, you got combat outfits or something?” Draco chuckled incredulously at the notion.

            “Something like that.” Harry admitted, ignoring the stares the back of his head was receiving. “Look, it’s not army wear or anything, just regular clothes spelled to withstand some wear and tear, like professional Quidditch robes are.”

            “We’re getting matching outfits. That’s a thing we’re doing now.” Hannah deadpanned, in spite of the situation, but Hermione elbowed her to be quiet.

            It turned out that what Harry had in mind were some American baseball style bomber jackets with zippers and a hoodie, jeans and high top suede boots. He had them inside the Room, inside a hidden wardrobe he made the Room create for him.

            “Oh, and he _stylised_ them.” Hannah remarked, barely containing her laughter as they inspected their combat wear.

            “Well, you have different sizes and shapes and they’re all tailored to fit you perfectly and comfortably, I thought to save time.” Harry said, as he dressed up, ears pink.

            “We’re not our own Houses, you know.” Draco side-eyed Harry as he put on pants, everyone suddenly not minding they were in underwear in front of each other for a moment. “And what if we mix our jackets because we both have the same insignia on the back?”

            “We don’t. I have a lightning bolt on my back instead of a House emblem.” Harry looked pointedly somewhere else. “Look, the point is,” he spoke louder to stop the oncoming laughs from everyone, “your clothes are spelled to be resistant to damage, fireproof, windproof, maintain the same temperature on your body no matter what, are light and are hydrophobic. Well, the latter isn’t available for Draco.” Harry recited.

            “Oi, why not!” the blond demanded, making everyone slowly turn to him in stunned silence. “Oh, right. Sorry, yeah, forgot I’m actually water.” he apologised for his outburst.

             “Your boots are made to _push_ a little harder on the ground than normal footwear, so when you run, you _run_.” Harry continued after shaking his head.

            “You’re actually right, they are comfortable.” Hermione inspected herself in a newly Room-created mirror. “And look nice as well.”

            “I have some hair ties for you two.” Harry said to the girls as he remembered to search his pocket for the seemingly normal looking objects.

            “Yeah,” Hermione laughed, still inspecting herself, “that won’t work.”

            But before she could say anything else, Harry made her hair into a single tail, starting at the middle of the back of her head, and sent the tie to the base of it, where it tied itself neatly, before making the rest of the tail into a small, simple bun.

            “Okay, _wow_!” Hermione bugged her eyes out. “I don’t know where you got these from, but I want all of them.” she jumped, and Harry could understand the years of hair caring and frustration that just went out the window for her.

            “Oh no!” Hannah objected immediately when she saw Harry turn to her expectantly. “I don’t need any help with that, thank you!” she said, before putting both hand on the back of her head and slowly fingered her hair, whispering. “ _Plectere._ ”

            Her long blonde hair started to weave itself into an intricate braid that started from her scalp, that went down the entire length perfectly. After she finished, she smiled at them brilliantly, and, for the first time ever, Harry could see that Hannah was actually a very beautiful girl, once she got all that hair that was usually in her face, high cheekbones, delicate jaw and big blue eyes. Draco was gaping like a fish at her.

            “What?” she protested. “You’re looking like you’ve never seen me before in your life!”

            “I don’t think we have.” Neville said quietly, and something inside Harry felt uncomfortable over the admiration in the other boy’s voice, but he ignored it.

            “Everyone ready?” he said to bring everyone from their various distractions. “Alright, I’m only going to say this once. The chance to back out – “

            “Not this again!” Draco rolled his eyes.

            “Was five minutes ago.” Harry continued. “From here on out we work together and we try to stay together, but when I tell you to run, _you run like hell_. Understood?” he cycled his gaze through everyone to see that they accepted what he was saying. “I can mostly take care of myself and if I have to, get out of anywhere faster than you, so if I say to get out, you get out while I cover your backs and then I’ll get to you. And if we cross paths with Quirrell, that’s exactly what you’re all going to do.”

            They all looked ready to protest at that, but he held out a hand to stop them.

            “We have one objective, but it doesn’t mean we get to lose our lives or worse over it. Nothing is worth that. But that doesn’t mean we give up easily.” he tried to encourage them, but some of his emotions took over. “In the past year, you all have proven to be my best friends that I could ever have, you have all been there for me when it counted and I can’t say how much I appreciate it, so I’m not about to let anyone hurt you.” the boy continued, voice cracking at the end.

            One by one, they all came together to Harry for a group hug, without words, even Draco didn’t complain or say anything. It was a dangerous thing they were doing, it wasn’t battling trolls, dodging Filch or smuggling a dragon, this was them fighting to stop Voldemort from gaining the Stone and eternal life. Somehow, Harry hadn’t realised it that they were all incredibly foolish right now, that everything else had been a joke or laugh compared to this, that this was real, it was actually happening. He guessed that somewhere in the back of his mind, he always hoped that the protections would be enough, that he didn’t need to do this.

            But a voice inside his head rang clear, a memory from not too long ago, back in September, a bespectacled figure speaking with a haunting voice that would always chill his bones.

            _“And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives… The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches as the seventh month dies…”_

As Harry caught Neville’s eye when they all parted arms, it seemed that the once timid boy was thinking about the same thing.

            “I need to use the loo for a quick minute, I’ll be back.” Harry excused himself, wiping away at his eyes. Inside the bathroom, however, he sent a quick text to the Dursleys, saying that he missed them and that he loved them very much and that he hoped to see them soon, before he dialled his most recent call again.

            ‘ _You have reached Albus Dumbledore’s voicemail. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you shortly, as I am currently unavailable for a call._ ’ the Headmaster’s recorded voice was heard in the speaker, extinguishing any remaining hope for his backup plan.

            “Professor…” Harry whispered, decidedly nervous. “I know about the Stone and I know where it is, and I know about Quirrell. He is going to try to get to it, now that you’re not here to watch him. I’m going to try to stop him, but I don’t know if I’ll succeed, so please, when you listen to this, please come back to the castle immediately and stop him from bringing Voldemort back.” and with that he sent his voice message and rejoined his fellows back in the Room.

            They all strained to get under the cloak and painfully made their way to the third-floor corridor, avoiding the busier areas of the castle. Unfortunately, that meant taking longer detours and subtly passing by the odd student that was wandering around, or couples who used their last few days together to snog incessantly on every available corner they could find. It felt like forever before they reached the dark corridor.

            Closing the way out, Harry took them from under the cloak and stashed it into one of his larger-on-the-inside pockets of his jacket, having no need for it now. If Filch or Norris came about, he didn’t give two cents about it, this was too important.

            _“Alohomora.”_ Hermione wiggled her fingers at the lock, which opened with a soft _click_ , almost too happy to open.

            “Ready?” Harry looked at them, preparing for shouts of protest and sudden questioning of decisions, but they all nodded curtly, and he had to remind himself not to be so anxious with them. He opened his music app and chose a random song. Katy Perry was now singing from Harry’s hand about the way she made out with a girl. The corners of Hannah’s mouth were risen slightly, but she said nothing.

            Harry slowly opened the door while everyone was behind him, heart beating loudly in his ear. But what made him jump was not the presence of the three-headed dog, or that it attacked them but rather that _it didn’t_.

            Fluffy was already sound asleep. Inside the room there was a strange melody playing, slow and beautiful, almost like it was inviting you to take a nap forever as you listened to it. It came from a golden harp that played itself, placed on a windowsill next to the creature from hell.

            “We’re too late.” Draco breathed. “He is already down there.”

            “We have to stop him.” Neville refused to give up.

            “He hasn’t been down there long, the song is still playing.” Hannah supplied helpfully.

            “Then let’s not waste more time.” Hermione displayed an uncharacteristic side of her and marched inside, with everyone else trailing behind her. “Keep the music playing, Harry, we don’t know how long he spelled the harp for.” she added hastily, keeping her voice quiet for once.

            “Right.” he said, using his other hand to lift the dirty door in the floor, which creaked disapprovingly. Harry searched his pocket for a plastic bag and a bottle of water, before filling the bag, closing it at the end and raising it at his level above the hole in the ground. “And down Alice went.” he said as he timed the fall with his phone, before a small _splat_ could be heard from down below. “Almost two seconds. Should be safe. I’ll go in first, someone hold my phone.” he held it in the air, not looking at who took it, too preoccupied with what would come next.

            With a deep breath, he jumped in the hole, using his power to stop himself from free falling. Instead, he was slowly floating down in the darkness for a few seconds, before the floor came into view, covered entirely by strong vines. After coming to a safe distance, he let go and fell into the surprisingly soft plant.

            “It’s safe!” he yelled up, sitting on the vines. “There’s some plant here to attenuate the fall! Come one at a time, I’ll catch you!”

            A moment later, Hermione came into view and Harry barely had time to slow her fall as she landed with a ‘umpf’ on her back. Then came Draco, followed closely by Hannah. But before Harry could help Neville with his jump, the vines around him started _moving_ around alarmingly fast.

            “What in –“ he frowned, but then it all turned into chaos.

            “Oh no.” Hermione said out loud at the same time Neville fell on his face, thankfully unhurt. The vines moved around them and started to twist around them, capturing their arms and legs, pressing down on them. Neville quickly raised his eyes, holding Harry’s phone, and made a horrified face.

            “It’s the Devil’s Snare!” Hermione and Neville shouted at the same time, before the plant went ballistic and tried to crush them all to death.

            Harry couldn’t move and every time he tried, the grip got even tighter than before, and the vines were too strong for them to be magicked by him without any movement at all. He could not think ahead of his impending suffocation and above the shouts of the others.

            “LONGBOTTOM!” Draco roared and Harry could see the form of the still laying down Neville, head wrapped by the Devil’s Snare, _deathly still_ , and his mind went to the worst place it could as his body disappeared somewhere below.

            “Stop moving!” Hermione shouted. “It only goes worse if you move!” she said, and Harry kept himself as still as possible. The vines around him gripped even tighter than before, trying to stubbornly supress the life out of him, but he found himself lowering into the ground, dropping unceremoniously at the same time with Hermione, followed closely by Hannah. Their soles found the cold stone ground in a second, as they fell over on their hands and knees. Harry found Neville right next to him, unmoving, but alive, and he could not be more thankful.

            But the screams above him told him it was not over.

            “Aaah – _hic_ – ahh!

            Draco was still trapped in the plant.

            “Neville!” Hannah remembered, jumping to her feet, but was stopped by Harry.

            “He’s alive, just unconscious!” Harry intervened. “Why is Draco still up there?”

            “I don’t know, he must’ve caught an air bubble and he’s hiccupping, so he can’t stop moving!” Hermione shouted, nearly in tears. “Oh, what do we do, what did Professor Sprout said about…”

            But before he could formulate a plan, Neville gasped back to the land of the living, clutching at Harry’s jacket.

            “Hates…sunlight!” he tried to yell, barely audible over trying to catch his breath and Draco’s continuously interrupted screams, that were getting fainter and fainter by the second.

            As if moved by the same mind, Harry, Hermione and Hannah all turned to the plant, raised their right hands and intoned perfectly:

            “ _LUMOS SOLEM!”_

Light exploded into the room, so bright and blinding it covered Harry’s vision entirely, the spell resounding powerfully in their ears.

            The plant sounded like it was in pain, before a small thud was heard and the light from the spell vanished, leaving everyone with spots in their vision.

            “Draco?” Harry shouted, trying to use his magic to settle his eyes from watching the sun. “Draco, are you alright?”

            “I’m… I’m okay!” the strangled response came from somewhere in front of him just as his eyes readjusted; Harry ran towards the boy to inspect him, while Hannah and Hermione came to aid Neville in standing up.

            Draco looked like he had run a mile without pause, but was otherwise untouched and his hiccup was gone. He looked more embarrassed than anything.

            “Looks like you completely destroyed it.” he managed to say, looking up at the burned remains of the Devil’s Snare. “Sprout won’t be happy.” he laughed as Harry helped him up.

            “Professor Sprout can do what she wants, that was just _evil_!” Neville croaked, voice still a bit off from where the plant strangled him.

            “Everyone all right?” Hermione checked everyone.

            “Yes, fine!” Neville snapped, eager to move on from this room, as was everybody else.

            They all dusted themselves, more out of habit than anything, as their clothes seemed untouched still. They opened the door that was a few feet away from where they fell, dreading their next challenge. It seemed like it was not as easy as they thought it would be.

            Going down the set of stairs beyond the door, they found a room with a central column and tall celling that was apparently inhabited by strange birds with silvery wings that made metal sounds as they flew merrily in various directions. There was another door on the other side, and they ran to it, but it would budge even under Harry’s power, nor would it open under any other magical means.

            “So now what?” Draco frowned, looking around for a clue.

            “Maybe it has a password?” Hermione thought.

            “Right, password a door then tell no one. Who does that?” Draco drawled out.

            “Someone who wants to keep something hidden.” Neville countered in the same tone.

            “There must be something, maybe those birds…” Harry started.

            “They’re not birds.” said Hannah, making everyone turn to look at her as she stared up. “They’re _keys_!”

            Indeed, at a second glance, Harry could see they the metal birds were actually keys with wings. But while this took them in the right direction, it also caused another problem.

            “Yes, but which one?” Hermione said what everyone was thinking.

            “It must be something that matches the lock.” Draco clicked his tongue after a second, looking at the keyhole. “Something big and old fashioned, probably rusty.”

            “Over there, to the right!” Hannah spotted it flying strangely in the direction she pointed at. It looked like one of its wings was damaged, like it was ripped furiously at. “But how are we getting it?”

            “There are some brooms over by the door.” Neville pointed them in the direction they came.

            “Um, hello?!” Harry turned to them in desperation. “We’re not playing a Quidditch match here! You have me!” he admonished them for not thinking clearly. “All of you by the door. I have a feeling this won’t be pleasant.” he sighed as they followed his order and he reached out with his hand in the direction of the right key.

            He made it go still and fly over in his hand with speed, but the second he closed his palm around it, the rest of the thousand keys went into a frenzy and dove straight to him. Without hesitation, he raised his other arm and thought of pushing everything in front of him _away_.

            The others shouted in surprise at the sudden attack, but it seemed that the keys that launched themselves at Harry suddenly met an invisible wall three feet away from him and were thrown backwards from where they came with the same force.

            “Okay then…” Harry blinked, keeping up the shield without any effort. “That’s new. Someone please open the door, thank you.” he said as he handed the key over his back. Harry realised it was Neville who took the key, because as he did he felt his phone slipping back into his left jeans pocket via trembling hand.

            The hard click of the door was heard, and everyone went inside as Harry walked backwards and pushed harder at the invisible wall to give himself time to retreat and close the door on his way. Just in time, as the murderous keys have resumed their attack and were now launching themselves at the door like bullets. Thankfully, it remained shut and indestructible.

            “I am never carrying a key again.” Draco shook his head in disbelief. “Electronic cards from here on out.”

            “Shhh!” Hermione shushed him. “Do you hear that?”

            The room was barely lit, save from the one or two wall sconces it had, but it smelled something fierce and whatever it was in it was groaning and dragging.

            They quickly looked around to the origin of the sound to see a giant troll, two times bigger than the one on Halloween, moving around aimlessly. Draco gulped audibly, but Hannah was quicker than everybody in that moment.

            “ _Expulso_!” she intoned, throwing her hand out and moving her palm upwards like she grabbed something, in a short, sudden movement. The ground from under the troll’s feet exploded in a circle of rubble, and he was thrown up with an immense force, so hard his head went into the celling. The troll roared as it was in the air, but was immediately silent the second it was caught in the stone. Everyone was stunned into silence, Hannah even more so, as she hadn’t intended for her spell to be so damaging. There was a disgusting sound like a _crack_ heard, as the body of the troll slumped down in a cloud of dust. Sans head.

            “Nice one, Han.” Harry laughed despite himself.

            “I didn’t… I just wanted to knock it out, I didn’t mean to… “she started frantically, looking at the body and at her hands, and Harry knew where her mind went to, as this happened to him before.

            “It’s alright.” he placed his hand on her back, rubbing a small circle. “You stopped it before it could hurt us. Remember the one on Halloween? I did the same. It was designed to kill anyone in his path.”

            “That was self-defence, Harry, this one hasn’t even attacked us and _I killed it_! I feel wrong, I shouldn’t have done that.” she admonished herself.

            “It was pre-emptive self-defence, it was going to kill us in the next second.” Draco tried to calm her down. “Although we should stop maiming troll heads, the Department of Magical Creatures are going to put us on a black list if we keep this up.” he joked.

            “Not helping.” Neville elbowed him. “It’s all right, Hannah, we can talk about this later, okay? I promise we will.” he took her hand and she smiled at him, and the same uncomfortable feeling came back in Harry’s chest, before Hermione put them back on their track.

            “Let’s move, Quirrell is still ahead of us.” she said as she stalked to the exit, carefully avoiding the growing pool of blood.

            They were all near the next door, when something behind them made a fleshy sound as it fell once on something big, then twice more as it fell on the ground then began rolling. They all stopped dead in their tracks.

            “Oh, Merlin, was that its head?” Hannah scrunched up her face in horror.

            “Do _not_ turn around.” Harry commanded, hair on the back of his neck rising as he opened compelled himself to move forward and open the door.

            “How did Quirrell get past that one?” Neville pondered as they walked down the stair on a narrow corridor.

            “He has a way with trolls. That was his protection.” Hermione explained. “The keys were Flitwick, the plant was Sprout, Fluffy was Hagrid.” she counted on her fingers. “Wonder who’s next.” she rolled her eyes, clearly not actually wanting to know.

            “Oh, I think I have an idea.” Hannah made a face as she stared at their next challenge.

            Inside their next room was a large chessboard with statue sized pieces, made out of marble and looking menacingly. They were completely still, as if they were waiting for something.

            “I would go crazy if I saw this any other day, but right now I am not pleased McGonagall is the Transfiguration Master she is.” Hermione quipped.

            “Let me scout ahead.” Harry ordered. “You stay here and don’t go anywhere near the board.” he said as he took flight over it and onto the door to the other side. He tried to move it, spell it, destroy it, anything, but like the one with the keys, it didn’t budge and he didn’t have time to figure out a way to get rid of it. It seemed there was only one option. “Right, so it has a trigger.” he sighed as he landed back. “We have to win the game for it to open.”

            “Well, this should be fun.” Draco smiled like a devil. “No offense, but none of you are actually stellar at chess, so…”

            “None taken.” Hannah shook her head. “Just tell us where to bloody go.”

            “Wait…” Harry had an idea. “Let’s try and see if it works long distance. Pawn to H4!” he shouted, but the statues would not move. “Okay, maybe if we were on the board but not as the pieces themselves…

            “Oh, knock it off!” Hannah scoffed. “It’s obvious it won’t let us pass unless we are all the playing as the chess pieces ourselves!”

            “Wizard’s Chess is designed to destroy the pieces, Han!” Harry retorted. “We could get seriously hurt!”

            “Isn’t that the point of it?” Neville asked no one in particular, but Harry had to give up.

            “Okay.” Draco clasped his hands together as he walked to the board to inspect it. “Obviously, we’ll play black, because the white ones are defending the exit.” he continued as he looked at the pieces that waited his orders. “This is just Wizard’s Chess, only on a larger scale.” he talked more to himself, most likely in self-encouragement. “Granger, take the right rook’s place. Abbott, left bishop. Potter, I need you to be the queen for this one.” he ordered.

            “Why does he get to be the queen?” Hannah scoffed.

            “Because it’s the strongest piece and we need him to stay relatively unharmed. Which leaves the king to Longbottom.”

            “That’s the weakest piece!” Neville complained, but still dutifully went in his place as their respective chess pieces went off the board.

            “It’s also the one we need to protect the most and you’re the most vulnerable of us.” Draco explained as he took the place of the right knight, mounting the horse on the back. “So zip it and let me think.”

            “What happens now?” Hermione asked from somewhere on Harry’s right.

            “Well, white moves first and then… we play!” Draco announced.

            A white pawn moved suddenly, a low rumbling sound in his wake as marble moved on marble, before going still two squares in front of it. Harry shared a look of concern with Neville.

            “Do not move beyond your respective set of moves, I don’t know what’s going to happen if you do.” Draco warned them. “Pawn to E3!” he said as the piece moved under his command.

            It was decidedly more brutal than normal wizard’s chess, as the pieces obliterated themselves without mercy. Draco was shouting orders left and right, making the pieces move, sacrificing them to open the way for the white king. He nearly let Harry be taken by the white Queen, but Draco quickly used the other bishop in order for him to retreat.

            “Abbott, take the rook at F3.” Draco commanded. “Alright, Granger you stay where you are and protect Longbottom. Potter, stay where you are as…” Draco shouted commands, but then the white queen moved diagonally, stopping at C4, a few feet in front of Harry, who was at C1. Judging by the look on Draco’s face, even as he struggled to keep everyone safe he still didn’t foresee that move. Which meant trouble for them all if Draco could be taken by surprise during a chess match.

            “Bugger! No, no, no!” Draco panicked. “No, we were so close!”

            “Forget it, Draco, just go get the king!” Harry shouted, trying not to feel the dread in his body as he stared unblinkingly at the statue, as if it would take his head if he looked somewhere else.

            “I can’t, not with you there! Rook to C3!” he commanded, making the marble statue move, but the other Queen was not giving up as it went forward and destroyed the rook protecting Harry in an exploding sound of stone blowing up. “Okay… okay listen!” Draco shouted at them. “We have to clear a path for Harry!”

            “How?” yelled Hannah from her place, to Harry’s left.

            “I have to draw its attention.” Draco took a breath.

            But then Harry analysed the board and saw Draco’s next move before he could think it.

            “Draco, no! You can’t do this!” he roared.

            “What’s he going to do?” Hermione was visibly shaken, almost in tears from all the tension.

            “He’s going to sacrifice himself!” Harry yelled, bile in his throat at the thought. “There’s only one place for him to go now, that involves checking the king, but it’s also in the Queen’s path!”

            “Listen to me…” Draco wanted to say.

            “Malfoy, don’t do dare be the hero…” Neville said, but Draco wasn’t having it anymore.

            “LISTEN TO ME!” he roared furiously. “I’m not important here, Harry, you are, you need to stop Quirrell and you are the only one who can! I’ll be okay.” he pleaded to Harry, who was having a hard time not flying Draco away from the board, but there was no telling what would happen if one of the pieces went out illegally.

            “You can’t ask me to watch you die for me, Draco!” Harry pleaded, tearing up.

            “I’ll be fine!” Draco insisted, trying not to let the worry in his voice show.

            “You don’t know that!” Harry pleaded, close to sobbing. “Please, I can take the queen, it’s our move now!”

            “You can’t.” Draco shook his head, steadying himself. “The rook at A4 will be there to take you.” he said, pointing to Harry’s right. “You’re dead either way, and I haven’t come this far just to let you go out like that. You saved my life, Harry. What kind of crappy friend would I be if I don’t try and save you as well?” he laughed through tears. “We promised to help you stop this, and that’s what we’re going to do.” he looked to the others who nodded almost imperceptibly.

            It was then that Harry realised it was never about protecting Neville in this game. Their king was flanked by two pawns and Hermione almost from the beginning of the match. Every move Draco made was to use Harry to move forward, but every piece he gave away was used to save him or clear his path.

“Alright, after it takes me, you move to E3 and check, then you take the queen.” Draco steeled himself. “Knight to C8!” he said, as the unthinkable already happened before anyone could protest. “Check!” Draco said as he was in direct line to take the king the next move.

            Slowly, almost predatorily, the queen turned in its spot and dragged itself to where Draco was. Harry was shaking on the spot, he couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but watch as the queen’s sword hit the marble horse in a flash.

            Draco’s screams could be heard echoing in the whole room, as the breath exited everyone’s lungs. Then silence as he crumpled to the floor, unmoving. Harry couldn’t catch his breath, as air stubbornly refused to enter his lungs and his eyes stung, body trembling. But Draco sacrificed himself for a reason and he had to remember the reason.

            “Don’t!” Harry shouted at the rest of them, as Hannah and Hermione wanted to run to him. “Don’t forget, we’re still playing!” he said, voice barely steady.

            He moved to his spot at E3, checking, just as Draco told him to. The queen moved to C5, to block Harry’s path to the king, but it was in vain. Draco was right, this was it. The white king couldn’t move from its spot at A7, because Hermione and Hannah were blocking any other path. Only one left was for Harry, as he moved forward with a vengeance to the queen.

            “This is for Draco, you piece of shit!” Harry gritted his teeth and used all of his power to obliterate the chess piece he now hated, reducing it to a pile of rubble that he pushed to the side. He moved on the square in its place, head held high and ready to finish this.

            “Check-mate!” he intoned, as the king dropped his sword and the door to his right unlocked audibly. Not giving a damn about the exit and knowing that he could now defend himself against the other pieces, he ran towards Draco, as did the others in a flurry.

            “Oh my god, oh my god, Draco!” he yelled, desperately, trying to find any sign of life on him. “Thank _Merlin_!” he gasped, visibly relaxing as he found a pulse on the pale form of the boy. “He’s alive!” he shouted happily towards the others just reached them. “He’s breathing, he’s alive, he’s just unconscious!”

            “He must’ve hit his head when he fell. The horse protected him from the attack!” Hermione realised, wiping away tears as she gently inspected his scalp. “He’ll be fine, just that he’ll have a major headache once he wakes up.” she continued as she found a slight bump on the back of the blond’s head, indicating that she was correct about her earlier assessment, but Harry was beyond thankful for whatever force out there that guided them that it spared his friend. He didn’t think he could take it.

            “He still might need medical attention.” Neville supplied. “And we can’t carry him with us.”

            “You’re right.” Hannah agreed. “I’ll stay here with him and wait for you guys. I’ll keep him safe, don’t worry.” she said to the other three in a strange voice, watching Draco intently, like she didn’t know how to react to him right now, even as he was out for the moment.

            “Keep out of sight just in case.” Harry reluctantly agreed. “If we’re not back in an hour, use the broomsticks back in the key chamber and go up.”

            “Harry?” Hannah put a hand on him as the other two made their way to the exit. She spoke in a low tone, eyes glued firmly into Harry’s with a ferocity he had not yet seen on her. “Make sure he pays for this.” she added, not having to say about who she was referring, and Harry pursed his lips and gave curt nod, before leaving to join the other two.

            Trying to shake the events of the last few minutes out of his head, Harry pressed on. Draco was fine, but he had to continue, as did the rest of them. They came down here for a reason, and they were closer to it because of the boy.

            They came to another large room, this one with only a table with potions on it, set down neatly on top of it in a straight line. Harry didn’t have to guess whose challenge this was, but was a little irked with Snape the second the door closed behind them and flames appeared before both doors.

            “Bloody pyromaniac git.” he mumbled before he could stop himself.

            “So, I’m assuming one of the potions here gives you the ability go forward?” Hermione asked as she sauntered towards the table.

            “And one to go back, obviously.” Neville blinked, looking around.

            “Here’s my problem with that.” Harry clicked his tongue. “ _Why,_ exactly? Why would you offer the potential thief something to solve _and_ the chance to move forward? And this is _Snape’s_ challenge, even he wouldn’t be so thick as to give someone an out when he clearly trapped them!” he went off.

            “Apparently, he did.” Hermione said simply, handing Harry a piece of paper as he and Neville approached the table.

            On the paper, Harry could read Snape’s irritatingly cramped writing, only this time it was neatly arranged on the paper, as opposed to the jumpy lines he occasionally did when having to write something on the board.

 

“ _Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_

_Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,_

_One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

_Another will transport the drinker back instead,_

_Two among our number hold only nettle-wine,_

_Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line_

_Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore_

_To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

_First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_

_You will always find some on nettle wine's left side_

_Second, different are those who stand at either end_

_But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;_

_Third as you see clearly, all are different size_

_Neither dwarf nor giant hold death in their insides;_

_Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

_Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight”_

            “Oh, now he does poetry as well.” Harry found himself making a face. “Is he for real here?” he turned to Neville for some explanation.

            “I think the actual challenge is logic, which is something Snape would absolutely do.” the other boy tried for a solution.

            “Indeed.” Hermione agreed, delighted for some reason that escaped Harry. “Alright, here’s the one that sends you back and here’s the one that sends you forward.” she said, first taking the smallest bottle that was on the right and then taking the medium-sized one that was the third in line from the left.

            “How did you – “Neville stared at her and then at the paper.

            “It was fairly easy. Harry’s right, something’s wrong here. The plant, the keys, the troll, the chess and now this?” she wondered out loud. “The only challenge was Fluffy, and even that went out the window if you read some Greek mythology.”

            “Which we had for a few classes during History of Magic, near the beginning of the term.” Harry made a connection. Of course, because he already made notes in advance by then, it didn’t click before.

            “Never mind that!” Neville broke them out of their reverie. “Come on, we’re so close!”

            “Right. It looks like it’s enough only for two sips.” she said as she held the smallest bottle, which made Harry realise it was the one meant for continuing on after casting one more look at the clue page. “Harry, you’re obviously not doing this alone, so one of us will…”

            “I’ll go.” Neville decided, suddenly more brave than before. “I should be the one to do it. Quirrell got to me first.” he said, as if that was a factoring choice at all for Harry, who would’ve rather sent them all back.

            Hermione looked pleadingly at Harry, but there was no stopping Neville.

            “I know you all think I’m not much of a wizard…” he started

            “No, we don’t think that!” Harry and Hermione shouted in unison, reflexively wanting to quell the boy’s unfounded insecurities.

            “… But I’m more than I seem. And I won’t let him get to Harry, I promise. You can count on me.” he said to Hermione, who looked ready to cry.

            “Oh, Neville!” she teared up and hugged the boy. “You are brilliant, you are! And brave!” she said in his shoulder while he patted her on the back. “So much braver than I am…” she let go and sniffed, looking at her feet.

            “It’s okay, Hermione.” Neville said affectionately as he rubbed her arm. “It takes a different kind of courage to go back and let others go ahead in your stead.”

            “When did you get so smart and wise?” she laughed, wiping her sleeve on her eyes.

            “I had some good examples.” he said as he looked at Harry and her with a smile.

            Harry hugged Hermione as well, as it was probably for the last time, holding her close to him as she tightly held him back.

            “Go back to Hannah and Draco and get out of here.” Harry ordered. “Go get someone to come back for us and then get Draco to the Hospital Wing. Be safe.” he added just for her.

            “I will.” she nodded, holding back the last of her tears. “Good luck.” she bid them, handing the potion to Harry, taking a sip from the other one and setting it back on the table. She ran back to the door, passing through the flames untouched and quickly went out the door, so fast, Harry felt like she was never in the room in the first place.

            Harry and Neville spared no time walking toward the exit, trepidation settling in their bones like cold air on a winter’s night.

            “Are you sure about this?” Harry asked as they approached the exit.

            “No.” Neville decided. “But I’m here with you anyways.” he smiled at Harry, holding out a hand, which Harry took without second-guessing, intertwining his fingers with Neville’s. He then took a careful sip out of the potion, followed closely by the other boy.

            There was an actual chill that went through Harry, one that disappeared when they went through the flames, untouched like Hermione and opened the door silently.

            This was the destination of their hellish journey. The final room, the final puzzle, the one that contained the prize they spent months trying to figure out. But that wasn’t what they sought at all. Rather, the one seeking it.

            The room was a circular and spacious, with columns placed inside of it at regular intervals. This one wasn’t lit by sconces, but by torches with actual flames instead. It was a part of the ancient castle that wasn’t brought up to modern standards, as there was no need to, so far underground. The light was eerily dancing to an invisible beat and tension was in the air so thick one could taste it.

            The boys approached the centre of the room, which held a familiar ornate mirror and in front of it, a tall, thin man in robes, his purple turban unmistakably on the back of his head. Harry reluctantly let go of Neville’s hand.

            “You!” Harry gritted through his teeth accusatorily, making the teacher turn around with a sardonic smile on his lips, something so uncharacteristic for him it made Harry want to retreat immediately. But it was too late, the deed was done and he was finally confronting the man that had been secretly plotting his death for the last year.

            “Me!” Quirrell laughed coldly. “Or were you expecting someone else? Snape, perhaps?” he added like he had an inside joke with the two children.

            “Oh, don’t _insult_ me!” Harry spewed, unable to control himself. “I knew it was you the second my broom went haywire during my Quidditch match! All of this bumbling idiot façade you’ve been throwing about… and I saw right through you! Barratt’s Trap on the broom shed, the trigger spell placed on me during our Defence lesson right before the Flying lesson, the troll, lashing out after Snape threatened you… You’ve been sloppy, _Quirinus_.”  Harry channelled his best Draco Malfoy spiteful voice that he could in the moment, hoping to mask his terror.

            “My, but you are clever, aren’t you?” Quirrell actually managed to look impressed. “Yes, very clever, unlike the rabble that is currently in charge of this once great school. Even Snape couldn’t have guessed entirely what my true purpose is, but _you_ did.”

            “He knows.” Neville decided to speak. “He knows, and so does Dumbledore!”

            “Dumbledore… Bah!” Quirrell spat. “Dumbledore couldn’t see the truth beyond his crooked nose and half glasses even if his life depended on it!” the man raged like a toddler. “I sent him away, I made him disappear just like that, and he isn’t here now to stop me!”

            ‘ _He’s on his way’_ Harry thought. _‘Just you wait!’_

            “He’s still more clever than you.” Neville goaded him, either stalling or just going crazy. “If he wasn’t, you wouldn’t still be here!”

            “ _Silence_!” Quirrell intoned darkly, making the flames on the walls burn brighter for a second.

            “He is right, though, isn’t he?” Harry followed Neville’s lead. “That mirror over there only shows you what you want the most, not how to get it!” he pointed at the mirror of Erised behind the man, making both he and Neville turn their attention to it. “He tricked you, Quirinus,” he said as the man turned visibly angry, staring at the mirror, “he made you go through all this trouble just to make you stare at yourself until you’re also purple in the face!” he continued, feeling more triumphantly than he should at the moment.

            But all of his good feelings suddenly left him in the next instant.

            _“Use the boy…”_ came a strange, icy voice from somewhere around them, and Harry could do nothing else but freeze up. It was like something otherworldly, something dark and dangerous was in there with them. But there was nobody else. Unless…

            Harry caught Neville’s eye in a moment of unthinkable panic.

            “Harry, I think…” the other boy whispered, white in the face and staring at the back of Quirrell’s head.

            “Come here, Potter!” Quirrell spat. “NOW!”

            Harry felt like something was taking over his body, as he made his way in front of the mirror. The dark thought that was in his head was enough to make him go silent.

            He stared at the mirror, waiting to see his parents. But in that very moment, when all he wanted was to keep the Stone away from the raving man, the mirror showed him something else.

            His own reflection moved without him, with a mischievous smile on his lips. The reflection then went to grab something from inside his right pocket in his pants then held it in front of him so Harry could inspect it. A small red rock, asymmetrical in its design, reflected the light from the flames as the reflection twirled it in his hands. The reflection then smiled back at Harry, who had enough trouble understanding what was happening, before his other self slowly dropped the Stone back into his pocket.

            Only this time, Harry felt something _land_ in his pocket at the same time. It took him almost everything he had not to go after the Stone he just received, because Quirrell was still eyeing him.

            “Well?” the man demanded. “What did the mirror tell you? What do you see?!”

            “You. Dying.” Harry decided to be a brat for once just to shake the man, but it was for nought.

            _“Lies…”_ the voice said, like a snake.

            “TELL ME WHAT DO YOU SEE!” the man roared and out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Neville prepared to intervene if needed.

            _“Let me speak to him.”_ the voice said.

            “Master, you are not strong enough!” Quirrell suddenly went fearful, and Harry was definitely not prepared for what came next.

            _“I have strength enough for this…”_ the voice commanded and Quirrell turned his back to the mirror as Harry took a few steps back next to Neville. The turban was being undone with a trembling hand, and Harry did not want to look further, but like watching a car crash, he couldn’t stop.

            Finally lifting the last fold over his bald head, Quirrell revealed to have _another_ face stuck on the back of his head, moving disgustingly in the flesh. Harry’s scar didn’t need to tell him who this was.

            “Harry Potter… We meet again.” the face said in the mirror.

            “Voldemort.” Harry said steadily, like he was expecting this, when in reality all he wanted was to grab Neville and go out the door and put a good number of yards between him and the Dark Lord.

            “Yes… You see what I’ve become?” Voldemort agreed, speaking in that icy tone of his. “See what I must do to survive? Live of another, a mere _parasite_. Unicorn blood can sustain me, but it cannot give me a body.”

            “When I tell you to run, you run.” Harry whispered to Neville.

            “But there is something that _can_.” Voldemort continued, smiling in a creepy way that made his ashen face look even more terrifying. “Something that, conveniently enough, _lies in your pocket_!” he spat as Quirrell made a face and Harry grabbed Neville as they jumped towards the exit. “STOP THEM!” Voldemort roared and Quirrell made a ring of fire appear around the room, stopping the two boys midway. “Don’t be fools. Why suffer a horrific death, when you can join me and live?” Voldemort tempted them.

            Harry and Neville turned around. Harry was beyond furious at his words. Who did he think he was?

            “Never!” Harry spat in anger at the same time Neville shouted the same thing.

            “Ha!” Voldemort puffed. “Bravery. Your parents had it too. Tell me, Harry… would you like to see them again?” he spoke, promising temptation and Harry could see his parents in the mirror, looking at him expectantly. He swallowed the lump in his throat barely. “Together, we can bring them back. Or perhaps you, Neville,” and at this the other boy jumped at having the Dark Lord’s undivided attention, “would like to speak to your parents again, have them _whole_ once more. Together we can bring them all back. All I ask is for something in return…”

            Harry’s hand went unwillingly in his pocket and he took out the Stone and Neville made an unreadable expression.

            “That’s it…” Voldemort quipped like a maniac on a mission. “There is no good and evil.” he continued as Lily and James Potter stared back at Harry, but the boy now knew what they were expecting him to do. “Only power, and those too weak to seek it. Together, we can do _extraordinary_ things!” Voldemort intoned. “Just give me the Stone!”

            Harry exchanged a final look with Neville, silent pact forming between them, and with a look of fierce determination, they turned back to the Dark Lord.

            “Go to hell.” Harry gritted his teeth and pocketed the Stone back, making the Dark Lord enrage beyond belief.

            “Kill them!” he ordered Quirrell, who posed to attack, but at the same time…

            “ _Depulso_!” Neville shouted, moving his hand and making the mirror fly into Quirrell’s back.

            They wasted no time as they turned around in the confusion and _ran_ for dear life. Harry could see the exit, he would make a shield to cover himself and Neville as they walked and he hoped it was enough to keep them safe from the flames, but it didn’t matter.

            Quirrell _jumped_ ahead of them, like the menace that he was, and raised his hand.

            “No!” Neville shouted and stood between them, just as Quirrell hit him with the back of his hand spelled to do more damage, and the boys found themselves flying backwards, before hitting the hard ground.

            “Neville!” Harry shouted at the unconscious boy on top of him, but he would have to wait. The murderous teacher was now jumping towards him, determined to get his prize. But Harry finally had it. He moved Neville from on top of him and floated above the ground a few feet, before _pushing_ Quirrell back with immense force, with the now familiar sound of an engine reverberating from the magic.

            “My, my… What hidden talents you possess!” Voldemort challenged him as Quirrell regained his footing and prepared for another attack, but Harry was done.

            “You have no _idea_!” Harry replied, as he began throwing everything he had at the man, punches of air and magic at him that appeared as translucent winds that hit the ground hard where he aimed, making it explode. Quirrell barely dodged them, but Harry had feinted a hit and fooled the man into making a move to the right, when in fact that’s exactly what he wanted. Quidditch reflexes made him attack and finally lad a hit, as the man was pushed back on the ground, _hard_. Harry then raised higher with a twirl, reaching out with both hands, fingers suddenly clenching in the air, trembling from the force. The two columns nearest to him started shaking, before two large chunks splintered themselves from the rest of the body with an earthshattering _crack_ , and Harry _launched_ them with a shout at the recovering man, one by one.

            But the other man would not be taken by surprise by Harry now. He dodged the first one and the other one he pushed back with a yell to Harry. The boy was too taken by surprise to do anything but minimise the damage it would do, as the rock forcefully hit his barely put up shield before it hit him straight in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. He then found himself flung across the room, hitting the wall with his back, the force distorting his vision. The second he regained his awareness, he tried to make the column fall from him, but it wouldn’t budge. Quirrell advanced on him slowly, one hand raised, muttering dark words to himself, spelling the projectile to stay on Harry, even as the boy struggled to move it.

            “Just think, Harry, if you hadn’t been so foolish, you could’ve had anything you ever wanted!” Voldemort taunted him, as Harry felt the column start to press harder and harder. “All you had to do was give me what I deserve!”

            “What I want is for you to pay for what you did!” Harry managed to get out, stubbornly refusing to bow down in the face of certain death. Even if he didn’t make it, the others were on their way with someone to help, of that he was certain. They proved that they wouldn’t let him down. “You killed my parents, you cut them down just because of a stupid _fortune-teller_!” Harry yelled, which made Quirrell stop dead in his tracks. Harry realised he just bought himself some time, so he pressed on. “I may well have the power to stop you, but it was _you_ who fulfilled the prophecy to begin with! It was you who decided to mark me as your equal, it was you who started all of this!”

            “You are no equal to me!” Voldemort roared, voice strained.

            “No?” Harry snickered disdainfully. “I was a _baby_ , Voldemort, I was a one year old toddler and you couldn’t kill me. And it nearly destroyed you.” he went fully maniacally. “The most powerful Dark Lord in all of history, and you were taken down, reduced to inhabiting bodies of mediocre teachers like an insect, all because of one _child_.” he spat like mad at the man.

            “DESTROY HIM!” Voldemort raged, and Quirrell yelled, raising his hands. Harry closed his eyes, waiting for the killing blow, a soft prayer in his mind for his family and friends that they would be okay, that they wouldn’t miss him too much. Who was he anyway, just a boy too smart for his own good, always sticking his nose where it didn’t belong, always getting others into trouble. They would be fine. They had to be.

            But the prayer would have to wait.

            “ **Stop.** ” something bellowed with an echoing voice, freezing everybody up.

            Harry opened his eyes at the same time Quirrell half turned to the source of the sound. Neville was standing up, looking nothing like the shy boy Harry met on a train going far away to a magical place so long ago. He was tall and dangerous, promising destruction in his path, looking at Quirrell/Voldemort with the fury of a thousand dying suns. The air around him was cackling with energy so powerful and _burning_ Harry felt it on his face. Small rocks around him started to float as the larger ones at his feet rolled slightly away, as if afraid of this small being now turned into warrior.

            “ **You will not touch him.** ” Neville warned with an otherworldly voice, something ancient and dark and powerful, a low growl from a large beast mixing with the boy’s voice, sounding like something from the depths of every nightmare of a person that experienced hell.

            Harry felt his bones go numb from fear. Voldemort was one thing, but this thing possessing as Neville was another. The other boy raised his arm calmly, and before anyone could process any of this normally, all hell broke loose.

            “ ** _Infernum Totalum_**!” Neville called at his magic, which _exploded_ into a fiery ball of hot flames, burning so intensely it sounded like a comet heading for earth, moving so fast Quirrell barely had time to defend himself, and even then, he still got singed. The blast sounded off like an explosion of a rocket, so loud it certainly was heard throughout the entire castle above them. But the flames, although very hot, did not touch Harry. Or, rather, they did, but they didn’t harm him. The few that reached him actually _caressed_ Harry’s open palm as Neville was conjuring a continuous flame towards Quirrell, who barely stood his ground. The strange touch of the flames, so gentle and so warm reminded Harry of the other boy’s hand, gripping him just enough to make him remember that he was still there for him, like Harry had been, no matter what. And then Harry let himself relax around this demonic version of Neville, because it was still his friend, still the boy who lost his toad and befriended Harry and supported him in everything. And his friend was now fighting for him.

            Demon-Neville conjured a giant _lion_ , of all things, out of the flames, which was now ferociously attacking a shouting Quirrell, while Voldemort was barking orders. But then Harry realised his prison was no longer functional, as the flaming lion was roaring a wave of flames at the bald man. He pushed the column away with a grunt and threw it will all his might at Voldemort’s surprised but still ugly face.

            The flames stopped the second the projectile made collision with Quirrell’s back. Because of the shield the man was using, the column disintegrated upon impact, but it was still enough to make him fly forwards and land at Neville’s feet. He then tried to stand up and grab Neville, but Harry sensed danger and Neville looked exhausted as the flames dimmed. Quirrell wrapped his hands around Neville’s throat. The young boy was now rapidly losing his breath and his life, clawing desperately at the iron grip around him, and Harry finally lost all sense.

            “HEY!” he roared, possibly damaging his voice. “You want this?” he taunted, taking the Stone from his pocket and showing it in his fist, holding it high.

            “Get the Stone!” Voldemort ordered, watching Harry furiously and Quirrell dropped a coughing Neville immediately, preparing to launch at Harry, but the boy already made up his mind about it. Flamel could bite him, for all he cared.

            “Come and get it, you fucking bastard!” Harry gritted through his teeth as he used his magic, calling it from inside of him to aid him. He gripped the Stone tight and pushed all of his power into his fist. The priceless artefact in his hand started creaking like a mirror being snapped in two, before Harry crushed it with force in his hand, turning it into useless red dust.

            “NO!” Quirrell roared at the loss of his prize, and Voldemort shouted blasphemies at the loss of his way of returning, months of planning down the crapper because of one very determined brat.

            Said brat was not done, because Quirrell now had nothing to lose. He jumped at Harry, the same way he did before when he got in his and Neville’s path, but Harry was prepared for it this time.

            He raised his hand near his mid-section and he felt his entire body on fire as he _grabbed_ with his hand an invisible ball, fingers clawing violently in the air. He pushed the hand out in one short motion, making Quirrell stop with a shout, freezing him a few paces away.

            “How… how…” the man manged to say, but then Harry twisted his arm upwards with a sudden movement, and Quirrell shouted in horrible pain as Harry dislocated a section of his spine.

            “You nearly kill Neville with the broom,” Harry intoned as he walked slowly, twisting his arm less this time, but still causing Quirrell pain, “you nearly kill us all with the troll,” he continued his torture of the man he had lived in fear of for months, “you nearly kill me with my broom, you kill and drink blood of innocent creatures just to serve a madman in his grab for power! How does it feel, to be scared and helpless, Quirrell?!”

            And with that he made Quirrell drag himself across the floor and into his open hand as it circled forcefully around the man’s throat. There was a terror in his eyes beyond anything Harry had ever seen, and it was directed at him.

            Harry blinked. This was not him, this vengeful being that created pain into others was not what he wanted to become. No, he was better than that. He began to let go of the man, but it was already too late.

            From where Harry’s skin touched Quirrell’s, the man began to sizzle and smoke, as Harry’s scar began hurting even more than it did during the whole ordeal.

            Harry immediately let go of the man, lest he get burnt as well. But his skin was fine, the same as ever. Only something in him had made the man burn and turn to ash where he touched him.

            “You useless fool! Kill him, kill him NOW!” Voldemort yelled, and even though Quirrell was in immense pain, he _still_ made a move to get to Harry, but the boy was quicker.

            Harry placed both his hands on the man’s face, making Quirrell and Voldemort both shout in gruesome pain, gurgling as his throat burned from inside out, turning them into a pile of robes filled with dust on the ground.

            The silence that followed was deafening in Harry’s ears. He stared incredulously at the burnt remains in front of him, before all the fight from him disappeared. It was over, everything was over.

            His final thought, before his vision turned blurry and his legs gave out through desperate shouts of ‘Harry! Harry’, was how he was going to explain all of this to aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon.

*

            There was something golden above him, something that reminded him of the Golden Snitch, but it was too bright and his eyes were simply too lazy to focus yet to properly see it. He blinked once, even if the act was too much effort on his part.

            A breath, then a second… Lungs were working, heart beating properly, cosy bedspread on his back… Something like cleaning solution in the air. Maybe Petunia was doing spring cleaning.

            Like a switch in his brain suddenly turned itself on, his functions returned to normal as he sat up with a gasp, remembering what just happened. The last remnants of panic flew in his head, before it settled down, replaying the last moments of Quirrell’s life.

            “Back to the land of the living, Harry?” Dumbledore quipped from his right, sitting on a chair by his bedside, and Harry knew that the golden thing he saw was the rim of the Headmaster’s glasses. Behind him stood Snape, eyeing Harry with his usual unreadable expression.

            “Professors… The Stone… Quirrell… My friends!” Harry tried to make his mind find the right words.

            “Are quite alright, not nearly as exhausted as you were.” Dumbledore replied calmly, while Snape drew in a breath. “Madame Pomfrey’s patched you all up in no time, but you were positively drained.”

            “I’ve gone into magical exhaustion?” Harry made a face as he looked around and yep, he was in the Hospital Wing. In nightwear. In front of his teachers. His shirt had _ducks_ on it, for crying out loud.

            “Well, no, in fact.” Dumbledore blinked twice, settling in his old teacher mode. “Your magic levels were fine, it was just your body that crashed. You might want to eat lunch first next time you stop Dark Lords before dinner.” he laughed. Snape turned to look at the Headmaster, slowly, raising an eyebrow the second he heard ‘next time’, but said nothing and resumed his earlier stance in the same manner.

            “And with little rest from all the stress caused by Voldemort, exams, Quirrell, fighting through that death course and fighting for the Stone…” Harry recited with a sigh, laying with his back on the pillows and closing his eyes. “It wasn’t a good time to go on the defensive, I admit.”

            “It wasn’t a _good time_ any other time, Potter.” Snape drawled disapprovingly.

            “Oh, don’t _you_ start!” Harry sat up again, startling the man, while Dumbledore watched with amused interest. “You designed a perfectly good trap for anyone who made it that far into the course and you decided to give them a clue via _poem_!” Harry ranted with disappointment and resentment in his voice. “A clue which, by the way, Hermione solved after looking at it _once_ , and if I wasn’t so busy figuring out just what was your plan in all of that, I could’ve done the same!” the boy continued, making Snape’s eyebrows fly to his hair in surprise. Shocked really looked good on him, made him look human for a change.

            “She… Miss Granger…” he tried, but Harry wasn’t done, even as his voice cracked.

            “Neville knew the _exact_ second he landed what the plant was and how to defeat it, I found and grabbed the key immediately, _without_ the brooms that were there I might add, that troll never stood a chance against _Hannah_ , professor McGonagall would definitely loose in a chess match against Draco Malfoy, and then there was the _mirror_!” Harry continued his tirade, throwing out all of his frustrations in one go, regarding stiffly the two men in front of him. “Spelled, out of all things, to show you exactly what you want, but not how to get it, _but_ it would give you the Philosopher’s Stone _if_ you didn’t want to use the Stone for yourself! What was the point of it all? Use Mandrakes instead of the Devil’s Snare, make every key to not fit the lock and then rig them with curses, should you try and use them, put a sphinx instead of a troll, make the chess pieces you are playing against cheat so that you won’t actually win, and _just put poison in all the bottles so that the thief won’t actually get to the final chamber_!” Harry said the last part entirely to Snape, belittling the man for not using his Slytherin ingenuity that he was so fond of shoving into people’s faces.

            “I noticed you didn’t say anything about the protection of the mirror.” Dumbledore said out of the blue, like this was just a normal theoretical discussion they were all calmly having.

            “Well, that one was actually cleverly put.” Harry shrugged, because Dumbledore was still Dumbledore, and the man was equally brilliant as he was barmy. Which was a lot, but Harry had a thing about people in glass houses and stones. “But it still doesn’t explain everything else! The entire thing was beaten by eleven year olds in no time, with zero preparation beforehand! It was like it was deliberately designed to be too easy!” Harry stared accusatorily at the old man.

            But Dumbledore just smiled at him brilliantly, like he was proud of Harry for some reason.

            Then the boy finally got it.

            “Oh, you did _not_!” Harry gasped and gaped like a fish at the Headmaster.

            “Oh, but I _did_!” Dumbledore quipped with a chuckle.

            “Any of you care to explain to me _finally_ why I and half the faculty had to design, as Potter eloquently put it, a barely trying protection for a dangerous artefact?” Snape lost his patience with the both of them.

            “You said at the beginning of the term to avoid the third-floor corridor,” Harry said, still in awe, “but that just drew more attention to it. If you wanted to avoid people stumbling on Fluffy by accident, you could’ve just warded the place and be done with it, and not say a single word on the matter. But you didn’t, because attention to it was exactly what you wanted. Because it was a _trap_.” he breathed heavily from the astounding realisation that Dumbledore was quite the evil mastermind when it came down to it. Snape looked like he wanted to smack himself in the face for not getting it.

            “Indeed, my goal was never the protection of the Stone, but rather to catch whoever was powerful enough and clever enough to steal it.” the man confessed. “I knew Quirrell had less than pure intentions after the incident during your first Quidditch match, so I kept an eye on him, lest he try to hurt you again. I couldn’t prove it was him, of course…”

            “But you knew anyway, because you put it all together.” Harry blurted out. “I know, I did the same. That’s how I figured you knew.”

            “Well, I had suspicions since the troll on Halloween, truth be told.” Dumbledore nodded.

            “And back then you suspected he was just a simple wannabe thief, so you asked Snape to scare him, make him stop looking for the Stone. But then my broom went crazy and you figured it out.” Harry figured out, at which Dumbledore nodded again with a smile.

            “This is a very engaging discussion in which you both agree on each other’s intelligence,” Snape intoed impertinently, “but I still have one question.”

            “And which might that be?” Dumbledore turned serenely to the other man.

            “Did Potter actually destroy Stone, or was that a decoy?” Snape looked ready to burst from curiosity.

            In lieu of an answer, Dumbledore searched one of his pockets, before raising the said Stone in his hand for the other two to see.

            “It was rather deceitful of me, really.” Dumbledore laughed to himself as he placed it back in his robes, ignoring the saucer-like eyes staring into him. “The Stone in the mirror was a perfect replica, spelled to look and feel powerful, but it was actually a Portkey meant to transport the thief to a Null Cell, where their magic wouldn’t work. If one tried to get it out of that room by any means necessary, it would cause and area of effect spell and portkey out. I had the real one under my desk in my office all along” and at this Harry wanted to slap himself for not giving more credit to his first instinct about the whereabouts of the Stone. “Of course, thanks to you, Harry, the decoy never made it out of the room. Or remained intact for all that matters.”

            Harry felt shame creeping out of his cheeks, and then guilt for what he did. He had a horrible notion in his head about the last moments during his confrontation with the Dark Lord that he didn’t know how to approach. On one hand, he stopped him. On the other, he nearly did something that he would regret. And then it happened anyway.

            “I’m so sorry.” Harry said, not meeting their eyes, instead looking at his covered toes.

            “While I do not encourage this kind of behaviour, specifically, Harry, I do commend you on taking action and stopping a very dangerous man from stealing something that would no doubt gain him untold power.” Dumbledore responded. “You fought valiantly and until the end, and you succeeded.”

            “No… I mean, I am sorry that I severely overstepped my bounds, of course, but…” Harry couldn’t speak the words, bile in his throat, but Dumbledore came to his rescue yet again.

            “Neville told me everything, Harry.” Dumbledore said in a graver tone this time. “I want you to hear me when I say that you did absolutely nothing wrong.”

            “But I wanted to.” Harry admitted in a whisper, looking fearfully at the older man, scared that he would finally the monstrosity that was in the hospital bed in front of him. “It all was too much at the moment, I felt so afraid of him and of Voldemort for _months_ , and then _he_ was there too, the monster that killed my parents, with his accomplice that tried to hurt me more than once, and then he hurt Neville, strangled him right before my eyes and I just…” Harry said in a strained voice, letting tears flow from his eyes. “I didn’t just want to kill him in that moment, I wanted him to _suffer_ , and I did make him feel pain, I used my power to hurt him just like… Like _he_ did.” he sobbed.

            “You’re not Voldemort, Harry.” Dumbledore explained, almost in tears himself, but it wasn’t from sadness. No, Harry had the strange notion that they were _happy_ tears, although why that would be true escaped the young boy. “Not by a very long shot. The fact that you’re standing here, ashamed of yourself for a very natural and understandable reaction, is the undeniable proof that you are not like him in any respect and that you’ll never be. He cannot love, Harry. He doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t know compassion, he would never have protected another as fiercely as you and your friends did“ Dumbledore put a reassuring hand on a quietly sobbing Harry for a second, which made the boy calmer. “He would never think twice after hurting someone, it doesn’t register to him that his actions have consequences. And it was only after he gave you no choice that you payed him back in the same manner he had been treating you.”

            “I still shouldn’t have tortured him like that. I _broke_ his spine.” Harry moaned into his hands. “Just like that, one twist of a hand and I more than likely have paralyzed him!”

            “You’re right, it wasn’t strictly necessary, but you expect too much from yourself. You are young, and thus you are subject to being carried over by your emotions most of the time. True, you are rather exceptional for your age at viewing the logical side of things and acting on them,” Dumbledore commended the boy as Snape did something akin to an approving nod to the side, “but the fact remains that you are still very young. And not many adult wizards would’ve stopped if they were you. Voldemort caused immeasurable pain to a lot of people, how many do you think wouldn’t have continued?” the man said with a half-smile. “I myself was once young. Yes, difficult thought to process indeed, but I did not come into this world old and with a long beard that makes me look wiser than I look.” Dumbledore joked, making Harry chuckle at the sudden image of an infant Dumbledore with half-mooned glasses and white hair assisting the doctors with his own birth. “I know how it is to want to hurt the people who have caused you harm, and I know how it feels after you do such a thing.” he added in a strange tone. “As long as you remind yourself that it is never right to hurt someone just because you want it, you will be fine.”

            “I still want him dead.” Harry admitted. “Voldemort, I mean. I still want him dead and if it came down to it, if I had to do it, I would. I wouldn’t even hesitate to do it. That’s what scares me the most, that I am capable and _willing_ to do it.”

            “I think you are very much allowed to feel that way.” Dumbledore agreed. “And I am certain that absolutely nobody in the entire world would find fault in that.”

            “Would you do it?” Harry asked in a moment of desperation. “Would you kill Voldemort if the opportunity arrived?”

            “Well, I have been actively searching of ways to stop him for good for the past few decades.” Dumbledore answered airily, laughing softly. “As for the killing blow itself? Absolutely. Because I know he wouldn’t offer me any other choice. I would regret taking a life, of course, but I wouldn’t regret stopping a dangerous man from causing more pain to others. Oh, do not be so surprised, Harry, you do not get to be my age and not face hard choices along the way.” the Headmaster joked, while Snape looked strangely at him. “And something tells me that you will face harder choices still.”

            “Always try do the right thing, even if it kills you to do it.” Harry found himself speaking.

            “Well, not as fatalistically as I would put it, but in essence, yes.” Dumbledore agreed, while Snape was silently losing his marbles at the discussion they were having. Harry had to agree that having the Headmaster and a first-year student conversing upon the ethics of killing to save others was as strange as it got. “By the way,” Dumbledore remembered as he turned around in his seat to Harry’s bedside table, which the boy only now noticed it was positively _filled_ with numerous packages and things, bright and colourful, somehow not managing to fall over, “your friends and a very large number of admirers have taken to showing their thanks by showering you with various gifts.”

            “Okay, _wow._ ” Harry gaped, trying to process this. “Does the whole school know what happened?” he asked, still looking over at the mountain of candy.

            “Well, not the specifics, but they do know you have successfully stopped Professor Quirrell from taking the Philosopher’s Stone.” Dumbledore said merrily. “And before you start to worry, I have explained to the Department of Law Enforcement that his demise was quite accidental.”

            “Yes, exactly how…” Harry remembered to ask.

            “Death via tripping into an open flame as he dodged one of your spells. You fainted from the recoil of the spell, while Longbottom defended you.” Snape answered, helping himself to one of Harry’s chocolate frogs.

            “Clever, Severus, but I meant how I _really_ stopped him.” Harry rolled his eyes and made one box of the Bertie Bott’s Every Flavoured Beans fly into his hand with one motion, opened it and ate a chocolate one. “While I _did_ want to kill him, we established that, I didn’t actually go through with what I had in mind, but he still sort of… burned to a crisp out of the sudden.” he explained, eating his candy and offered the open box towards Dumbledore out of politeness.

            He was met with a sly smile from the Headmaster and a very stunned Snape, that had his mouth half open, still eating the chocolate frog, one of the legs dangling out of the corners of his mouth. Harry was truly confused for a few seconds, before Dumbledore helpfully gazed at the box of candy in the boy’s hand and then back at him. And then he got it.

            _Oh._

            “Um… I can explain?” Harry tried to look as innocent as he could at the moment. “Well, actually, no, I can’t, it just sort of… _happened?_ I did it once out of instinct and then I could… do it any time I wanted.” he finished lamely, for the first time not knowing how to explain something properly, words tying into his tongue.

            “Well, I knew you were an exceptional wizard, but that was something else.” Dumbledore said serenely. “And you did it nonverbally? Without a spell, I assume.” he hit the nail on the head.

            “Yeah, I don’t know how or why, but it’s come in handy so many times, I stopped questioning it.” Harry scratched the back of his head.

            “Remarkable!” Dumbledore breathed, positively enthusiastic.

            “’Power he knows not’, right?” Harry tried, taking another candy, this one grass, but he chewed through it bravely. “Guess it had to come out at some point.”

            “While it is an exceptional gift to be so in tune with your magic that it follows such commands, the power Voldemort knows not is still your ability to love, Harry.” Dumbledore reiterated his point as Snape remembered to swallow. “It is why you’re standing here today, because your mother and father both willingly gave their lives to save you. And it is why Quirrell, and by extension Voldemort, quite literally can’t touch you. Self-sacrifice is a very powerful bit of magic, Harry, not common for obvious reasons, but I now firmly think that’s what kept you from dying in the first place on Halloween ten years go. May I?” Dumbledore broke his train of speech too casually as Harry offered him a piece of candy.

            “He’s still alive, isn’t he?” Harry asked, fearfully. “There’s no way he is simply gone just like that, that would be too easy.” he huffed in slight annoyance.

            “Yes, that would, wouldn’t it?” Dumbledore chuckled as he carefully selected a yellow candy from the box. “But no, he’s still alive, if that’s what you want to call it. He’s out there, searching for new ways to take a body. Let us hope next time it won’t be as easy for him to do it. Ah, Bertie Bott’s jelly beans!” he exclaimed, examining the candy in his fingers. “I have sworn myself to never eat one of these, as I had the misfortune of finding a vomit flavoured one last time. But it has been almost sixty years…” he shared a conspiratorial look with Harry as he threw it in his mouth gracefully. “Ah.” he made a face as he chewed. “Earwax.” he said disappointedly.

            “You’re still eating it.” Snape remarked with a raised eyebrow as Harry tried using a glass of water to hide his smile.

            “I did not say it wasn’t tasty earwax.” Dumbledore licked his teeth comically, making Harry nearly choke on his water from laughing too much at the scene in front of him. “Now, my boy, I must be off.” he announced as Harry calmed down from his fit. “Before I let your very anxious friends to join you, I do have someone else that would like to speak to you, if you feel you are up to it.” the man said with an air of mystery.

            “Ah, alright?” Harry said, not knowing how to respond and Dumbledore clearly wanted to let the sudden visitor introduce themselves.

            “Wonderful! I shall send him in momentarily.” Dumbledore smiled as he sat up. “Enjoy the rest of your term, Harry. I shall see you at the feast.” he bid his farewells and out the door he went, leaving Harry dazed.

            The boy noted that Snape still hung around, watching him expectantly.

            “Do you have any idea who it might be?” Harry asked his Potions teacher.

            “Not one clue.” he answered truthfully, turning to look at the door. “He’s always like that, likes to create a certain _drama_ about him, as if we don’t have enough of that around here. Speaking of, I’d like to take this opportunity to ask you yet again what did I say to you at the beginning of this school year.” Snape turned at the boy, trying to look as threateningly as possible, but Harry saw right through it.

            “Oh, give me a break already, Severus!” Harry rolled his eyes sarcastically. “At this point you’re just splitting hairs.”

            “And yet…” Snape clicked his tongue, accentuating the last word as dramatically as he could.

            “Did you _want_ me to let the Dark Lord gain access to the Elixir of Life? And before you say it, none of us knew where the real Stone was, but at least I stopped Quirrell.”

            “You could’ve come to me. Or even _Lupin_ , for that matter.” Snape pressed on.

            “Would you have believed me?” Harry made a face.

            “Point taken.” Snape added lightly after a moment of thought. “At that moment, no, I wouldn’t have. And I would continue to chastise you for not looking for someone more competent to take care of that pretending coward, but as it stands…” he left the sentence hanging, not daring to say ‘ _Yes, Potter, you are actually capable of taking care of things yourself once in a while_ ’, but the thought was implied. “But you still were caught breaking a rule.” Snape raised an eyebrow.

            “No, I wasn’t.” Harry replied simply. “I wasn’t ‘caught’ doing anything, I specifically left the Headmaster a voicemail and sent others for help, so I _announced_ what I was going to do.”

            “Semantics.” Snape replied in monotone.

            “Important semantics, and I still did the right thing.” Harry said, at which Snape begrudgingly had to roll his eyes and nod in acceptance. “Furthermore, nobody caught me sneaking into the Restricted Section _for_ _months_ to do research on the Stone, or finding Fluffy by accident, or wandering the castle late at night, or flying over the Forbidden Forest wile smuggling a baby dragon!” Harry went on a roll.

            At this, Snape raised his eyebrow dangerously.

            “You do realise you just admitted to all of those things?”

            “What things?” Harry played him. “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”

            “Smuggling an illegally hatched dragon after curfew and out of the bounds of the school into dangerous territory?” Snape said sarcastically.

            “That’s silly, where in the world would I get a baby dragon?” Harry smiled slyly at the man. “See, when you put them like that, everything I do sounds incredibly implausible and everything I just said cannot be used in a court of law, I am recovering in the infirmary after all.”

            Snape regarded Harry for a few more tense moments, as he looked ready to hand out several years of detentions, but then he did the strangest thing.

            _He laughed_.

            And quite loudly too. Not a soft chuckle or a small trill, but a full on, barely on your feet kind of laugh. It was enough for Harry to question himself on whether he was still in his Universe or if he landed in a parallel one somehow.

            “I was completely wrong.” Snape said as he recovered, but he used a polite tone that was unlike him. “It seems you are entirely your mother.” he chuckled sort of proudly. “Oh, stop looking at me like _that_ , Potter!” he regained some of his normal self as Harry stared at him, terrified.

            “Sorry, just… Never seen you laugh before. Or actually smile like that.” Harry admitted.

            “I haven’t had a good reason to.” Snape admitted, suddenly sounding a bit sad. “Well, it seems like you will continue to poke your nose into things, no matter what, and you’re Slytherin enough that you will continue to escape punishment, as much as that pains me, so let me rephrase my earlier statement;” Snape intoned with an official voice, “You will not get caught breaking rules, but you are also to use that actually remarkable sense of duty of yours to do what is right.” he intoned, leaving Harry with his mouth hanging open. “Yes, not nearly as fun when you have permission to be a brat, isn’t it?” Snape snickered at Harry. “Also, do remember once in a while that I am your Head of House and I’m available to help you, Potter. If not for yourself, then for me. People will have my head if you get killed under my care.” he sighed like he was bored.

            “I will keep that in mind.” Harry carefully responded, not knowing how long this _jovial_ Snape would last.

            “And one last thing before I depart.” Snape went serious. “I do not care that you have reservations about this, the next time you have the opportunity to take down the Dark Lord, _you take it_.” he gritted his teeth. “And while I oppose torture, do allow yourself to be human for once and enjoy some well-deserved payback. Take my word on this, it doesn’t do to repress your feeling and let it go every time, sometimes you have to respond in kind. Now, I leave you be.” Snape finished his speech, leaving Harry very confused. “See you at dinner.”

            “See you around, Sev!” Harry shouted at the retreating back of his teacher.

            “Still no nicknames, Potter!” came the predictable response, and Harry laughed with his head thrown back.

            He sat there for a minute, enjoying the silence and the alone time he had, eating some of his candy, before the oak doors opened once more, to reveal a very tall and imposing man, with short, curly dark grey hair and bright yellow eyes. He had very nice features and was somewhat built, and wore very casual clothes, jeans and a black t-shirt, with a pair of sunglasses tucked at the neckline of it. It was decidedly _odd_ to see such a character inside of an ancient magical castle, Harry would more likely think he was an actor or something. The man quickly scanned the room and finally settled his eyes on Harry, then smiled a brilliant white smile as he _sauntered_ toward his bed and the boy had absolutely no clue what to do, mouth slightly agape and a nervous feeling inside of his stomach.

            “Monsieur Potter, I imagine.” the strange man politely greeted him as he took out his wand from his back pocket and moved the chair Dumbledore sat on earlier with an elegant flick. He spoke in perfect English, voice low and almost musical in a way, with the slightest French accent mixed in there.

            “You’re not imagining, I am Potter.” Harry replied more sarcastically than he felt was necessary, as the man sat down, but his new visitor didn’t seem to mind, as he continued to smile at him.

            “Clever tongue as ever, I see.” came the reply and Harry got a strange feeling at that. “I am Nicholas Flamel, pleased to meet you.” he continued, offering a hand which Harry reached to shake it instinctively, because uncle Vernon would have his head if he didn’t, but it took his brain two more seconds before it processed the information.

            “Oh. _Oh_!” Harry gaped as he retreated his hand.

            “Yes, I do seem to get that one a lot.” Nicholas freaking Flamel _chuckled_ and Harry had to revisit his earlier theory about parallel Universes because of it. “The next affirmation would be that I don’t look a day over thirty-five, even though I am over six hundred and… “at this he trailed off, adopted a concentrated expression and looked upwards,” we’re in what now, 2012?” he asked more to himself before resuming to talk to Harry, “And 90 years old. Give or take. And the next question is what skin care routine do I follow, but we all know the answer to that, don’t we?” he laughed at his own joke.

            “Wow… You’re…” Harry stumbled upon himself because _Nicholas Flamel._

            “Nothing like you pictured? I wasn’t always going to keep my fifteenth century look, you know.” the man tried to help.

            “…Old.” Harry finished rudely, but it only made the man bark out a laugh.

            “Ha! You’re one to talk!” he said with mirth, but it only confused the poor boy further.

            “Excuse me? I am only eleven, not centuries old!” Harry defended himself.

            “Well, no, you’re not _centuries_ old, clearly.” the man clarified, but he said it in a way that Harry didn’t know how to interpret. “But I digress. I have come here to thank you for your attempt at stopping that sneaky little teacher of yours that tried to steal my Stone.” he continued.

            “I… Well, thank you, but it’s not necessary. There was a decoy in place, you see.” Harry blushed as he explained.

            “I am aware. Still, it was brave of you and I wanted to express my gratitude for the intention.” Flamel persisted with that damned charming smile of his.

            “No offense, but I didn’t do it for you.” Harry tried to say without sounding too rude. “I did it so Voldemort wouldn’t gain power from it. Why did you let Dumbledore take it out of Gringotts in the first place?” he found himself asking.

            “Always with the questions.” Flamel scoffed playfully, talking more to the celling. “I gave Albus permission to use it to draw out the Dark Lord of this age, as bait. I didn’t think it would work, but hey, I got bored this decade, after you rendered Riddle to dust.” he shrugged nonchalantly.

            “Right.” Harry replied with a raised eyebrow. It was clear to him the man was not quite there, but he used his charms to get away with it.

            “At any rate, I shouldn’t keep you any longer, your friends nearly tore down the door, precious little dearies!” he smiled even more blindingly and honestly, what was up with him. “But I also wanted to present you with a gift to show my gratitude.” he said as he searched his pocket and put his present on the bed.

            Harry gasped. _Loudly._

            “You’re not… This isn’t happening… After all of this, you’re _giving_ me the Philosopher’s Stone?!” he shouted.

            “Well, obviously.” the man scoffed and placed it forcefully into Harry’s hand and the boy’s mind was spinning out of control.

            “How… Why are you doing this?” Harry tried to find the right words as his hands trembled against the warm object in his hands, a _mountain_ of energy coming from it.

            “Because I think it would be safer with you, after you so clearly demonstrated that you are capable of defending it.” the calm response came.

            “No, I can’t just…” Harry wanted to refuse, give it back to the rightful owner, but Flamel would have none of it.

            “Yes, you can!” the man said happily. “It’s yours now, do whatever you want with it. Use it, don’t use it, hell, study it from top to bottom and replicate it, if you’re eager for a challenge. Use it to find a cure for some deadly disease or something, invent a new potion, _whatever you want_!” Flamel gleefully goaded Harry, who had to admit that those things were more interesting than eternal life and unlimited gold.

            “But… Don’t you need it?” Harry tried one final time.

            “Please, I have the Elixir on storage to last me for a good long while.” the man waved him off. “Always so concerned, I swear…” he laughed as he sat up and walked towards the exit.

            “Mister Flamel! Wait!” Harry shouted in desperation at the man, who turned like he expected that. “The way you speak… Is as if _you know me_.” he half breathed, half exclaimed.

            “Call me Nick.” he winked playfully and bloody hell, what was going on in Harry’s chest? “And of course I know you, darling, you’re rather famous!” he laughed.

            “No, it’s more familial, like… Have we met before?” Harry tried to rack his brains for anything to make sense of what the infuriating man had been purposefully letting slip.

            “Oh, no. I’m not getting near that one just yet.” Nick laughed.

            “It’s a yes or no question!” Harry countered impatiently.

            “No, it’s not. It’s _really_ not.” he sighed, before putting on his aviators and smiling at Harry. “Text me sometime this century, darling. See you around.” and with that he swayed his hips and left the room, leaving Harry to stare at his back and at his…

            Oh. _Oh._

            Well that one was new. Very strange and new. It certainly explained _why_ Nick bothered him so much, and it’s not like Harry didn’t entertain the notion before, fleetingly at best, but to have it firmly placed in his list of things that are undoubtedly true is something else entirely. This was completely uncharted territory for him.

            Could he be wrong? Was it just a presumption based on the moment? But looking back and analysing things with newfound perspective, Harry found out that it wasn’t, in fact, just a momentary thing.

            He never… Well, he never _anything_ before, as he was just a child on the verge of adolescence, so focused on books and new information that it simply didn’t cross his mind in a way that would gain traction and gain a form.  

            His thoughts were interrupted by a sheer _rampage_ in the room, as his friends ran towards his bed and clamoured on top of him, shouting happily and barely managing to avoid suffocating him.

            “It’s lovely to see you all too, but _could I breathe please_?” Harry said, crushed under Draco and Hermione.

            “Sorry.” they both said as they retreated, massive grins on all of their faces showing exactly how sorry they were.

            “How are you feeling?” Neville asked.

            “I’m actually perfectly alright. I’m just waiting for Madame Pomfrey to appear and discharge me.” Harry admitted. “Help yourselves to some candy while you’re here.” he motioned to the bedside table and like the little termites they were, they threw themselves at the sweets with a dedication Harry had yet to see on other children their age when it came to sweets. “Draco, are you okay after…”

            “I’m fine, Potter, stop feeling sorry.” the blond talked with his mouth full of caramels as he sat on the bed with Hermione and Neville, as Hannah took the chair. “I’ve bumped my head in a fall, not punctured a lung!”

            “Yes, Harry, it’s not like he hit anything important.” Hannah quipped as she threw another chocolate frog into her mouth.

            “That was too easy, Abbott. You can do better than that.” Draco rolled his eyes playfully.

            “You’re right, I could.” she agreed with him after a moment of thought.

            “So what happened?” Harry interrupted them and asked Neville, who was silently eating a biscuit. “After I blacked out? And what was all of that with the _flames_!” he exclaimed as he remembered the way he conjured an inferno at Quirrell.

            “What flames?” Hermione piped in, looking accusatorily at Neville, who swallowed and ignored her stare.

            “Well, I tried to wake you up, but it’s like you shut down.” the boy admitted. “You didn’t move and I thought the worst, but then Dumbledore showed up, said you called him and he made you float on a tarp after inspecting you. You had some bruises, we both did, but Madame Pomfrey made short work of us. They put us on bed rest for the rest of the day and released us this morning, but you were still out.” he recalled.

            “Dumbledore made us go and get breakfast, even if we didn’t want to leave you, but said you had some things to discuss when you woke up.” Draco picked up the conversation.

            “Wait, _next day_?” Harry realised.

            “Yeah, it’s the day after.” Hannah replied. “You slept through yesterday afternoon until now.”

            “Where’s my phone?” Harry looked around for it, before Neville handed it to him. He had a dozen new messages and notifications that he would check later, but the thing that gave him pause was the time

            “I slept for 24 hours?” he looked incredulously at the group.

            “Can you blame yourself, I mean, you were on stress levels I have only seen on seventh-years during final exams.” Draco shrugged. “And from what Longbottom told us, you pretty much wiped the floor with Quirrell.”

            “Oh, from what _he_ told you.” Harry made a face and turned to face a bright red Neville. “Did he also tell you how he saved my arse by conjuring flames and speaking like a creature from hell?” he continued, not wanting to take solo credit for the deed.

            “HE WHAT?!” everyone else shouted in shock.

            “It wasn’t like that! I was terrified, I thought he was going to kill you!” the boy tried to wave it off.

            “He _was_ going to kill me, Neville only I didn’t use what I am sure was actual _Fiendfyre_ to attack him! You did!”

            “I’m sorry… WHAT!” Hermione lost her marbles. “How did you do that?” she gripped poor Neville on the arm.

            “I just, didn’t want him to hurt Harry any longer so I just… did it.” he said lamely. “And it wasn’t Fiendfyre, Harry, I don’t even know what that is!”

            “A very dark curse that creates half-sentient flames that mutate into beasts that destroy anything in their path.” Draco said, still staring at Neville, who looked like he wanted to disappear. “Did I mention very dark curse? Like really, absolutely dangerous and powerful, father snatched the book that detailed it from my hand and locked it away when I tried to read it.”

            “That’s exactly what that was.” Harry agreed.

            “But I didn’t know!” Neville tried, but it was Hannah that gave them an answer.

            “I can’t believe it. Neville Adrian Longbottom, you’re a _fire elemental_?” she gaped

            Stunned silence from absolutely everyone. And then…

            “Since when?!”

            “Can you really produce flames as well?”

            “Your middle name is Adrian?”

            “Okay!” Neville put his hands up, stopping the waved of questions. “Since always, obviously, only just discovered it, yes and yes.” he answered in order.

            “But… You had trouble producing fire from a simple spell!” Draco countered. “How did you go through that to manipulating Fiendfyre expertly?”

            “I don’t know and it _wasn’t_ that!” Neville tried once more.

            “Did the flames look like a thermobaric bomb exploding?” Hermione said out of the sudden, looking at her phone.

            “Just show us the image first, Hermione.” Harry sighed, as the girl turned the screen around to present the picture of what Harry guessed was the spell they were talking about. “Yes, it looked exactly like that, orange-pale flames.”

            “Wow.” Hannah whistled. “You’re something else, Neville.” she shook her head in disbelief. “And Fire is the element of passion, you had to have wanted it _strongly_ to have produced it like that. When Harry’s life was in danger, you must have had a breakthrough and finally channelled your inner abilities.” she spoke, setting everyone in a daze at her words. Neville looked positively stunned. “Like Malfoy, you only did it because of your emotions, yours was the determination that you stop Quirrell from hurting your friends, his was because he was afraid of what could happen if the troll got to us.”

            “An Elemental… Like me.” Draco looked at Neville in awe, who was not used at having this much praise directed at him. “Of course, we’re opposites, but we can learn from each other so much!” he said, giddy at the prospect.

            “I can digest _one_ of us having such an extraordinary gift, but _two_?” Hermione pondered. “It’s rather…”

            “Too coincidental?” Harry finished her thought. “I don’t know, there’s four of you and there’s four elements. Maybe…”

            “No, that would be ridiculous!” Hermione scoffed. “It’s a rare hereditary trait and I’m muggleborn, it couldn’t happen. Hannah, on the other hand…” she glanced at the blond girl who Harry noticed still had her hair braided.

            “Yeah, _right_!” she laughed it off. “Like I could ever. And it would be too weird, like it was prophetic or something.”

            But Harry shared a look with Neville at that point. He thought about what Professor Trelawney predicted and felt a tugging in his stomach. With a silent agreement, he turned to the rest of their friends, who caught on the exchange between the two boys.

            “We have something to tell you.” Harry announced gravely.

            He began with everything the Headmaster had said during their meeting on that first day of school back in September. He recounted Snape’s story, swearing them to secrecy, the man’s side of things, everything about the Potters and Black and Lupin, and then the prophecy that was made. Neville told Hermione, as she was the only one who didn’t know, about his parents and to the rest of the gang about how he was the other child of the prophecy.

            “So, you are the only one that can stop him?” Draco spoke in amazement.

            “I think so. Either me or Neville, but I fit more with it all.” Harry shrugged.

            “Is that why you went with Harry in the last chamber?” Hermione turned to the blue-eyed boy, who was currently in a side hug from her from his recounting of his parents’ fate.

            “Not really. It was more about proving myself, like you all did. Turns out, I can make Voldemort fear me.” he added with glee.

            “You said his name!” Harry exclaimed, but also noted that the others did not jump at the name anymore.

            “Dumbledore said to always tell things as they are, fear of the name only increases the fear itself. And I am not afraid of him anymore. He can be fought back.” Neville said and Harry wanted to cry from how _proud_ he felt at the moment.

            “But you don’t _have_ to fight him, you know.” Hermione looked at the two. “It’s just a stupid _fortune cookie_!” she disagreed with the notion.

            “Right, you are in a castle surrounded by magic, but divining the future is where you draw the line?” Draco sarcastically scoffed her off.

            “I know there are things I can’t understand, but they shouldn’t have to fight bloody _Voldemort_ just because someone said so!” Hermione defended her point.

            “True, and Dumbledore said as much.” Harry agreed in part with her, taking a jelly worm Hannah handed him. “But it doesn’t matter. Voldemort will come after me now, and as long as you’re with me, after you. A fight will happen, and at some point, maybe even a fatal one.” he added gravely.

            “Then we’ll be there to make sure you win.” Draco decided. “If it really comes down to it, then we’ll help you defeat him.” and at this the other two girls nodded determined.

            “I… Well, I appreciated you all throwing yourselves in a possibly deadly fight for me, but what about your families?” Harry asked. “What would your father say, Draco?”

            “Does he have to know?” the blond said in a mock-question. “I don’t bloody well care about what he thinks, I’m firmly on your side. Have been since you all saved my arse from a twelve-foot mountain troll.” he added to the rest of the group. “If he wants to continue to serve a madman that is basically the wizard equivalent of _Hitler_ , then so be it. I want no part in it and I will do whatever it takes to stand against that! Imagine if they had their way and Granger couldn’t be here with us right now!” he gestured to a very shocked Hermione. “We would’ve been personally doomed three times over by now! We need brilliant people like her in the magical world, otherwise we would’ve still been in the dark ages using _quills_ instead of pens or Merlin forbid, computers!”

            “Careful, Malfoy.” Hannah half laughed, half breathed. “I’m this close to admiring you just now. I still think you’re a right git sometimes, though.”

            “I am _thrilled_ to hear that, Abbott.” Draco mocked, making a comical face and sending everyone into fits of laughter.

            “Oh, I almost forgot!” Harry said after he calmed down. “Nicholas Flamel came for a visit earlier!”

            Everyone stopped what they were doing like a switch went out in their minds.

            “Shut up!” Hermione gaped. “That was _him_ back there? Oh, no.” she made a horrified face. “I just threatened _the_ Nicholas Flamel to set him on fire if he didn’t let us in to see you.” she said as she covered her face in shame with Harry’s blanket.

            “He was rather amused by it, truth be told.” Harry laughed.

            “What in the world did he want?” Neville voiced everyone’s thoughts.

            “Well, to thank me for trying to defend his life’s work. And, surprisingly, to give me _this_!” he said, dramatically revealing the Stone from under his covers.

            Draco and Hermione promptly fell of the bed with resounding _thuds_ , while Hannah and Neville gasped for dear life.

            “No bloody way!” Hermione shouted as she and Draco recovered.

            “It’s mine now, apparently. And yours as well. We earned it.” Harry declared, smiling so much it hurt.

            “We can’t possibly…” Draco started, but couldn’t find the right words.

            “And it’s the _real_ one?” Hannah inquired, which gave Harry pause, before he took his empty glass and held the artefact above it, channelling his magic through it. After a second of doubt, the Stone started _sweating_ from the bottom, as drops started falling from in in the glass bellow it. A few seconds later, Harry stopped what he was doing and presented the group with the glass, triumphantly displaying the golden substance at the bottom.

            “Holy mother of Merlin!” Neville intoned. “Is that…?”

            “The most sought substance in existence!?” Hermione screeched. “Harry, don’t drink it!” she added fearfully.

            “I’m not about to remain eleven for even more time, Hermione, god!” he retorted as he finally got up on stiff legs and emptied the contents into the sink next to his bed.

            “Should you have done that?” Draco asked, still trying to recover.

            “Oh, relax!” Harry waved him off as he came back. “What is it going to do, make a fish live an extra day? It will be diluted by the rest of the water in the lake.”

            “So it really is the real Stone.” Neville blinked. “What are you going to do with it?”

            “What are _we_ going to do with it, Nev.” Harry rephrased the question. “And I don’t think any of us need the Elixir right now, so that’s out of the question, and if you need money… well, my bank account is already several tens of thousands of galleons over what I actually need to spend, so…” he shrugged. “Nick did say we could study it if we wanted. Nothing like a project to keep us on our toes.”

            “ _Nick_?” Hermione intoned as Harry blushed.

            “Oh, great, _more_ homework!” Hannah rolled her eyes.

            “Or infinite gold accessories to wear.” Harry waved the Stone tauntingly.

            “What a wonderful gift!” she exclaimed, doing a one-eighty on her previous stance.

            “So where are you going to hide it?” Draco wanted to know.

            “With me while I’m at home this summer and then I’ll devise some way we can all have access to it and still be safe. We can’t just carry it around with us, what if we lose it?”

            “I doubt _you_ of all people will let it slip that you forgot the most powerful artefact in all of wizarding History.” Draco raised an eyebrow. “You don’t leave the room without your phone.”

            “Wouldn’t it just paint targets on our backs?” Hermione supplied.

            “The official word is that it was destroyed.” Neville reminded them. “That Nicholas Flamel decided it was too dangerous and had it blown up. I don’t think even _Dumbledore_ suspects the truth.” he whispered.

            “And I can’t imagine any of us would tell someone else.” Harry added.

            “Are you kidding me?” Draco scoffed. “If not for the fact that people will kill us for this, then for the sheer headache we will have because people will know we have it! I’m not about to reveal this to anyone in under any circumstance, it’s too dangerous!” he motioned at the Stone with a wave, as Harry passed it around for everyone to inspect it.

            “Well, at least Dumbledore’s challenge worked in the end.” Neville said after his turn of looking at the Stone and handing it back to Harry. “It reached the one person who would never use it for his own gains and that could keep it safe from those who would.” he smiled at Harry.

            They spent the remainder of the afternoon eating and not caring about anything in the world, as they put all thoughts of Dark Lords and prophetic statements behind them. Harry had been discharged later that day by a very tired Pomfrey, who basically shooed him out the door, candy and friends in tow.

            It was finally over. The months of worrying and planning and breaking rules around every inch of the castle were over. They could now quietly and normally spend their last week at Hogwarts playing games, carefully avoiding chess matches for a while, staying outside in the warm sun or just watch movies and TV shows in the Room on the smartboard. Harry decided to leave it there, as with other things they amassed inside of the hidden room, during the summer vacation. It was well protected anyway. He would still have the Stone with him when he returned home, because smartboards could be replaced in any case.

            It was too soon, Harry decided, that the Leaving Feast was upon them, one inconspicuous Friday on June 7th. He had used the day to say goodbye to Lupin, McGonagall, and even Snape, who looked pained at being on the receiving end of affection.

            That night at dinner, they were greeted by the four tables, which gave Harry another sense of separation from his friends. He had Draco with him, certainly, but he wanted to have one last meal together before they parted. His chest panged in a strange way as he made his way to the Slytherin table with the blond.

            Dumbledore made his end of the year speech, standing up after the meal, quieting every student in the castle.

            “Well, another year has gone by!” the Headmaster addressed the school. “And not one so uneventful that it skipped right past us! I’m sure you’re all eager to know which House won the House Cup this year!” he continued, as a collective groan was heard through the Great Hall. “Yes, I imagine you are all frustrated from keeping score by yourselves and still not figuring out.” Dumbledore chuckled, and Harry agreed with the rest of his colleagues, because for the last month the House Points Hourglasses turned every stone inside them grey and were empty at the bottom, and the app that tracked them kept displaying that the results would be shown at the Leaving Feast before it closed. “Well, I could just tell you, but there are some late additions to be had.” Dumbledore intoned dramatically. “First, to Hermione Granger!” and at that Harry perked up and looked over at the shocked girl just in front of him. “For exceedingly remarkable intellect and for applying logic in difficult situations, I award 50 points!” he intoned as the Ravenclaw table exploded around Hermione and Snape shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

            Harry stared at Dumbledore incredulously, as he understood what he was doing. He couldn’t have awarded them points for defeating the death course _earlier_? Preferably when it wasn’t in front of the entire school?

            “Next, to Hannah Abbott, for acting quickly in a dangerous situation and displaying an incredible aptitude in offensive Charms, I award 50 points!” Dumbledore was obviously not done as Hufflepuff went ballistic. “To Neville Longbottom, who proved that having the courage to finally stand up up for yourself and believe that you can succeed will bring out the best in you, I award 50 points.” he said as Gryffindor lost their minds. “To Draco Malfoy, for an excellent mathematical mind, and an excellent chess player, I might add,” Dumbledore added with a short laugh, “who demonstrated that putting others above yourself is the true meaning of friendship, I award 50 points!” and Slytherin went quiet for a moment, before everyone jumped up and down and congratulated the blond, who was stunned.

            But the Headmaster was not done.

            “And lastly, to Harry Potter!” he intoned as the Great Hall was on the edge of its seat. “For displaying maturity and an intellect beyond his years, for forging friendships indifferent of backgrounds, for fighting tooth and nail to do the right thing, and for daring to go head first into danger when nobody else would, to protect this school and its students from a teacher that wished them harm…!” and at this Dumbledore let the sentence hang, and goddammit, Snape was right, Dumbledore was a freaking _drama queen_. “I would award him with points right now, but something tells me he would be unhappy at the unfairness of his House receiving even more over the others,” Dumbledore lowered his voice to a casual tone, while Slytherin was goading Harry to say that _‘_ No, Professor, I don’t mind! Just hand them over already!’, “so instead, in the spirit of compassion and fairness young Harry has continued to display, a rare quality indeed, I will award every House with 100 points!” Dumbledore finished his speech, as the Hall went wild.

            But Harry couldn’t understand _why_ , though. Dumbledore just awarded every single House with a total of 150 points each, it wouldn’t make a difference in the end. But then the boy realised that this was Dumbledore, and the Headmaster didn’t do this for the House Cup, he did it to make sure their deeds were officially recognised in the eyes of the student body, even if no one knew the whole truth. Harry smiled at the aging man in understanding, feeling grateful for the true purpose of the man’s speech.

            “Now, without further ado, let us find out our winner!” Dumbledore intoned, as he flicked his wand towards the Hourglasses behind him. The stones turned colourful once more as they slipped down, numbers under them raising rapidly. It was a tense couple of seconds, as everyone was either on their phones or watching the hourglasses intently.

            “The House Cup goes to…” Dumbledore announced as the numbers slowed down, finally stopping at the same time and every phone in the room pinged loudly in a cacophony of notifications.

            Harry’s breath stopped.

           

            Slytherin still won!

            He didn’t hear Dumbledore announce it, he didn’t need to even. Every member of Slytherin was going absolutely _insane_ , wanting to felicitate Harry and Draco, even though the rest of them were the ones that made an actual difference. Banners with their emblem appeared above them, covering the celling of the Great Hall with green and silver, as hats and who knows what else were suddenly being thrown in the air. It was the best night of Harry’s life so far, one that he would remember for years to come.

 

            “I still can’t _believe_ we were behind you by two points!” Hermione repeated for the nth time as they approached the train platform the next morning.

            “Oh, would you give up!” Hannah sighed, tired of hearing this argument. “It’s just a point system with no _actual_ rewards for the students, just the Heads of Houses!” she said as she shifted her luggage on her shoulder.

            “Lighten up, Hermione, she’s right.” Harry pulled the girl into a side hug. “I am happy we won, but it didn’t mean anything. It’s just something that they do to keep us occupied and have us develop a sense of responsibility while we’re young and impressionable.”

            “I know that, but it still bothers me. If we were behind with ten points or something like that, I would be fine!” Hermione moaned, but still managed to laugh a little.

            “Think about it like this, next year Snape will be expecting them to maintain the House Cup, so there’s even more _pressure_ on Slytherins to succeed than the other three Houses.” Neville came with his much needed wisdom.

            “Ah, crap, now we have to do even _better_ in class?” Draco groaned, nearly tripping, but only Harry noticed that last part. “As if we don’t have enough on our heads!”

            “Don’t tell me you’re expecting even more trouble next term!” Harry joked, but they all made a face at him, somehow synchronising themselves perfectly. “What?” he added, not knowing how to respond.

            “With you there’s always bound to be something, and by extension, _us_.” Hannah replied sardonically. “And yes, I know, we already accepted that, but let’s not pretend it’s smooth sailing from here on out, we’re smarter than that. Or, well, you lot are.” she let go of the stare.

            “I have seen your Charms and Defence grades on your theoretical exams, don’t try it Abbott, you’re as nerdy as we are.” Draco drawled out.

            “Have you _seen_ my Transfiguration one?” she retorted as Neville and Harry sighed and Hermione snickered. “Or my _Potions_ grade?”

            “Yes, Hannah, Acceptable is actually the grade Troll in disguise, just for you!” Harry said in a mock condescending voice.

            “I can deal with trolls easily.” she scoffed and Harry wondered about the conversation Neville had with her on the subject, but assumed it was rather private so he kept his mouth shut.

            “Well, we now have three months to prepare our notes for our next classes!” Hermione added and everyone groaned. “I’m _kidding_ , god!” she laughed, pushing Draco lightly with her finger, who stuck out his tongue at her.

            “You’re still going to do it!” Harry announced with a singing voice.

            “Of course I am, because I’m who?” she said, walking ahead a few paces and turning to look at them as she walked backwards, but Harry had more faith in her reflexes than he did with Hannah.

            “Hermione Granger.” everyone else sighed and spoke in monotone.

            “And I’m what?” the girl laughed.

            “Absolutely barmy.” the simultaneous response came in the same manner,

            “And don’t you forget it.” she winked at them, before rejoining her friends.

            It was too sudden, the way the platform glared at them expectantly, as waves of students embarked the purple train and Hagrid oversaw the exchange. They all went to the giant man in a Hurry and said their goodbyes, clamouring on top of him. Even Draco, but he would deny it to his grave.

            “Harry, could I talk with yeh for a moment?” Hagrid asked the boy, as everyone else climbed aboard. “Listen, I wanted to give you somethin’ that I thought you would appreciate. Took me all year to get all of them!” the man reached in his cavernous pockets and took out a book with a sturdy cover on it.

            Harry opened it, but did not find words staring at him. Instead, moving pictures, like gifs, only more lifelike, that didn’t go on in a loop, greeted him. But the contents of the pictures are what gave him pause. His parents, in various locations and settings, different ages in some of them, waved at him and smiled and Harry had to fight back tears with everything he got, because this was the best gift in all of existence, this small evidence that Lily and James Potter breathed and lived and had happy memories.

            “I just thought, well, your aunt and uncle can’t have that many pictures of them, and so…” Hagrid started awkwardly, but was attacked by Harry, who hugged the man’s legs fiercely, sobbing into his coat.

            “Thank you, Hagrid.” Harry said just for him to hear, after which he extracted himself from the man. “Thank you so much, for everything, you don’t even know how much this means to me!” he continued as he wiped his tears and placed the precious book in his bag, along with his laptop and the Stone that was hidden inside of a pocket. “You are truly an amazing person, and if someone ever says otherwise, you just tell them to come to me and I you know what I’ll say?” Harry exclaimed happily. “I’ll tell them Rubeus Hagrid is one of the best people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting and that they should really reconsider their life choices for thinking anything else!”

            “Oh, stop it, Harry, yeh’re making me cry.” the giant man ruffled the boy’s head and sniffed loudly, obviously touched by the words. “Now off yeh go, on the train! I’ll see yeh next term.” he ushered Harry into the now almost full train. “And yeh be good, yeh hear me?” Hagrid shouted after Harry, who only smiled mischievously before boarding the train with his friends, moments before the whistle of the conductor was heard and they started moving.

            They waved at Hagrid from the door, and he waved back a few seconds, before turning back and retreating.

            “It’s going to be weird going home after all of this.” Neville said as they still hung from the door as the train gained traction. “I don’t know how to tell my gran anything about what happened this year.”

            “I think our families are better off not knowing in _just_ how much trouble we were.” Hannah laughed as she went inside to choose a compartment for them.

            “True.” Draco agreed and went after her.

            “She would be proud of you, Neville, I’m sure she would.” Hermione supplied as he kissed him on the cheek and disappeared inside.

            “I am already proud of you, Neville.” Harry said, still in the door as the train finally left the platform. “For everything you accomplished and I’m also proud to call you my friend.” the raven-haired boy continued as he locked Neville in a side hug, and the boy smiled brilliantly at him, hugging Harry back affectionately.

            “I should hope so, I did save your life after all.” Neville cheekily added. Obviously, spending too much time with Draco Malfoy and Hannah Abbott did wonders for his character, but Harry wasn’t going to let him get away with it that easily, so he just smacked the other boy’s shoulder playfully. Neville gave a hearty laugh as he went inside that rang in Harry’s ears.

            Harry stood a little while longer in the open doorway, as the train gained speed, watching intently the giant castle in the distance. Whatever misadventures awaited him next in that magical, wonderful place, he was sure that he and his friends would persevere. As long as they had each other, as long as they made themselves be better for each other, they would be alright.

            And whatever the answers that lay ahead of him for things he did not yet understand, they would conquer them together.

            The boy smiled as he cast one last look at Hogwarts, before joining his friends on the journey home to their families.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOT! So we finally finished book 1! How exciting! After a year and a half, 130k words later, we're finally done with the Philosopher's Stone! Of course, we have six more books and a loooot more things that are in the tags of this fic that I still haven't covered, but if you think it's a long fic so far, hooo boy, but you have another thing coming.  
> I hope this chapter doesn't feel rushed, even as huge as it is. It took me all week to write and then some. There was so much I wanted to cover in this one, it just got away from me and I couldn't stop. I hope you are happy with the results, I know I am! This is the most words I have ever written for a chapter.  
>  First off, I wanted to say that Nick/ Nicholas Flamel DID NOT FLIRT with Harry! That was just how I envisioned Nick, as a charming man in his mid-thirties that joked around, but he DID NOT hit on an eleven year old boy! That would be just creepy! In case you need it spelled out for you, yes this is how Harry finds out he's gay. Trust me, I know how it is, being a gay man myself, I know exactly how the process can go, and that scene was exactly how it happened for me. Of course, Harry won't go through years of self hatred like I did, he's smarter than that and lives in a more accepting country than mine and he will develop a 'I care not, bite me on my perfect fuckable ass' attitude much earlier than I had.   
>  Neville as an Elemental. Hm... Was that too soon? Did I also reveal too much? Perhaps, but hey, I still have a lot up my sleeve. Also, slightly jealous Harry that doesn't understand jealousy, I LIVE.   
>  And I hope you all realise that Dumbledore, even canon one, would've absolutely killed Voldemort, should he be given the chance. And Harry now has the Stone! Whatever for, I wonder? Well, I know why, but I'm not saying anything yet.  
>  Alright, I have tons more to discuss about this chapter and where things will go, but I'll leave you people to ask me in the comments if you want to talk more, I'm always open for discussion. (If you see grammar errors, do not judge me, I have stayed up more than one night this week until 3 or 5 AM to write this, just tell me and I will fix them, I won't get upset if you do).  
>  Until next time, when we start the Chamber of Secrets. Oh, the fun we will have!


	14. The House Elf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guests are planned visitors that you greet with a meal, along with tea and biscuits. Intruders, however, are unplanned visitors that greet you with warnings.

 

 

            It was a quiet morning on Privet Drive that Saturday, three days before Harry’s birthday. Birds were singing from somewhere in the trees, everyone was inside of their own homes, finally resting after a long week out in the hot weather. Uncle Vernon was the exception as he was the only nutter out at ten in the morning to tend to the front lawn before doing his weekly carwash. Dudley was… somewhere. Harry thought he heard groans of disappointment coming from downstairs when aunt Petunia returned from the store, and he did see Dudley powerwalking through the front door from his bedroom window, while a stupefied Vernon just stared and aunt Petunia…

            “Harry? Harry, did you happen to see…?” came a voice.

            Aunt Petunia was suddenly at his door, knocking, but before Harry could compose himself from a situation he was not prepared to be caught in, she came in without a response, as all mothers apparently and frustratingly do.

            She entered and immediately stopped in her tracks, five different questions on her lips as she locked eyes with her nephew, who stared back at her with an uncomfortable smile. A few seconds passed, as Petunia tried to blink away what she was seeing and tried to come up with a response to what Harry was doing.

            “Um… Hi?” the boy tried.

            “A-are you…?” Petunia stumbled upon her words.

            “Very much so, yes.” Harry tried his best composed expression in light of the situation.

            “I…” she tried yet again, but whatever she wanted to say just caught up in a bubble in her throat that she swallowed back.

            “I realise you didn’t imagine seeing me doing this any time soon…” Harry said, but Petunia seemed to get back into her senses.

            “I did not. I _really_ did not.” she shook her head, bewildered face still in place. “With two young boys in the house I expected _some_ surprises along the way, but…”

            “Sorry?” Harry shrugged, not knowing how to react in this situation. Oh, Dudley was never going to let him hear the end of it and Vernon was going to laugh himself silly.

            Petunia sighed and massaged her eyes with the hand that wasn’t froze on the handle and Harry never felt redder than before.

            “Look, would just…?!” she motioned exasperatedly at Harry.

            “Right, sorry!” he realised.

            Harry gracefully extricated himself from his position, careful not to hit anything along the way and arranged his clothes as he stood stiffly in front of his aunt, looking very small and insecure at the moment.

             “Now, did you happen to see my flash drive? I put it on the kitchen table earlier but it’s not there.” she continued, obviously trying to move past the scene she just witnessed.

            “I borrowed it for some files on Dudley’s computer, but I’m all done now. I meant to give it back earlier, I was just…” Harry said as he went to his desk and handed the object in question to his aunt.

            “Distracted?” she tried, half smile forming on her lips.

            “It’s not funny.” Harry rolled his eyes.

            “No, it’s really not.” Petunia tried, but a short laugh escaped her before she could hide behind her hand and chuck it up as a cough.

            “I’m serious, stop laughing!” Harry went even redder in the cheeks as Petunia started to shake from keeping it in.

            “I’m sorry,” she finally let go, laughing fully on, waving her hand in front of her face slowly, “but your face was just…!”

            “I wasn’t doing anything wrong, I was just trying something new!” Harry tried, but that only spurned her on further.

            “By _hanging off the celling_?” she calmed down a bit seeing her nephew’s slight anger at the situation.

            “So? I can fly, is it so much a stretch that I can levitate?” Harry tried for nonchalance, but his aunt, brilliant as ever, caught right on it.

            “Without a broom?” she raised a knowing eyebrow and damn she was good.

            “It’s a gift. It’s sort of like telekinesis, not everyone can do it. Well, no one can do it like me, apparently.” Harry explained, trying to make her understand something even he didn’t fully comprehend. “They don’t teach you that at Hogwarts.”

            Indeed, at Hogwarts they didn’t teach the students how to fly using never before seen powers or how to use them in such a way as to sit down on the celling of a room and read from a tablet, like Harry had taken to do for the past few weeks. It was just a more comfortable way to do it, really, and it did help train with his powers, seeing as he couldn’t just fly out into open space lest he became Surrey’s resident Superman. They didn’t even have telephone booths anywhere near them.

            “But hanging upside-down doesn’t rush all the blood in your head?” Petunia waved in a general direction at the spot where Harry was a minute before.

            “Well, not really.” Harry scratched the back of his head. “I think I am creating another gravitational source for myself whenever I am stuck on a surface that is not the Earth itself and when I fly I just… well, fly?” he went through several expressions of puzzled.

            “Cunning.” Petunia nodded, looking upwards. “Lily never did anything like that, of course. She never did any magic at home, come to think of it…” she lowered her voice as she made a connection. “You’re not getting yourself in any trouble with your school for doing that, aren’t you?” she beckoned at Harry, going fully into concerned parent mode.

            “Relax.” Harry sighed happily. “I can do magic in my own home, just not in any way that’s noticeable to other Muggles not aware of magic. And I’ve been doing _that_ for ages now, nobody from the Ministry came with a letter or anything. I’m fine, honestly!” he added, seeing the still not convinced look from Petunia. “Magic is like a muscle, you have to work it and stretch it, otherwise it doesn’t grow. And I promise to be on my best behaviour for tonight’s guests.” he said solemnly.

            “Don’t remind me, Vernon’s boss has the same joke that he always tells and it’s not even funny!” Petunia groaned, more relaxed now.

            “Do I have to mention the joke about the golf match uncle Vernon has on stock?” Harry crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

            “His is actually funny.” she retorted, defending her husband to the death, it seemed. “That joke is what made me want to marry him.” she shrugged theatrically.

            “Of course it was.” Harry gave a short laugh. “Hey, have you seen Dudley anywhere?” he remembered to ask. “I wanted to talk to him.”

            “He went to the store.” his aunt answered simply, suddenly very interested with her flash drive. “He should be back shortly.” she made a move to exit, but Harry learned some of his brilliance from her.

            “Weren’t you just at the store?” he asked, but Petunia dejected.

            “It’s getting late, I should prepare dinner for tonight!” she announced as she turned around on the spot and left promptly, leaving a very confused Harry in her wake.

            “It’s ten in the morning!” Harry raised one of his crossed arms in question and intoned loudly.

            “Ah, Duddykins! Harry wants to talk to you!” Petunia said from the stairs, completely ignoring her nephew.

            “What did you do?” Harry shouted after her through the open door. “What did she do?!” he directed all of his frustration at his cousin, who appeared suddenly in his doorway, very confused about it all, with one hand in a tube of Pringles.

            “Forgot these.” Dudley replied slowly as he ate a chip and raised the can, before he settled on Harry’s bed as the other boy closed the door. “I asked her this morning, but she must’ve let it slip out of her mind. You know how she feels about forgetting to do things for us.” he explained further.

            “Yeah, she hates it ever since she forgot your birthday breakfast from when you turned eight.” Harry remembered as he sat down next to his cousin.

            “Honestly, it wasn’t a big deal, it was just slightly annoying! Don’t know why she makes a big fuss out of it!” Dudley complained. “It’s not like she did it on purpose or anything. It’s just a snack!” he said, taking another mouthful of chips and offering some to Harry, who declined politely. “Anyway, what did you want to talk about?” he remembered the reason he was in the room in the first place.

            At that, Harry lost some of his confidence about the matter. This was something that he hadn’t discussed with anyone else before, since he made the realisation back in early June, after the incident with Quirrell. He didn’t know what his friends would think, and this wasn’t something you just said over a text or with a funny picture for the first time in your life and his family was another matter. Thusly, Harry settled on Dudley, as he was the best representation of both worlds, both his family member and also his friend. If you asked Harry, there were two different things, being a brother to someone and being a friend, and Dudley managed to fit into both somehow.

            But this was harder than the boy thought it would be, as he stared at Dudley, trying to find the words to say it. A month of research on the matter, of what it means, of how it changes people’s perceptions, of how to broach the subject to one close to you made no difference, it seemed, because no one tells you exactly the amount of fear and rejection you feel in your chest when faced with such a decision.

            “Harry, are you alright?” Dudley spoke out of the sudden, making Harry jump slightly. “You’re sort of… trembling. Are you sick? Is it a magic thing?” his cousin went worried.

            “No, no!” Harry made a nervous laugh as he fumbled with his bedsheets. “I’m okay, nothing is wrong with me. I just have something I wanted to tell you, but I don’t know how to…” he started barely above a whisper.

            “Then what is it? You’re kind of freaking me out here!” Dudley sighed exasperatedly and man did he inherit Vernon’s slightly intimidating demands.

            “It’s just that I think… Well, actually, I know, but I-I…” Harry stammered, face heating up so much he thought he would just melt into his bedspread in front of his cousin.

            “ _You what?_ ” Dudley accentuated, losing all patience.

            “I’m gay.” Harry said in the same tone, before clasping his mouth in horror for just blurting it all out like that.

            Silence.

            Harry stared at his cousin in shock, who had an unreadable expression on him for a moment. He felt that the worst was coming, that he will be shouted at, rejected, possibly being thrown in the cupboard under the stairs for good measure.

            “That’s _it_?” Dudley asked, making a face. “I thought you blew up Mrs. Figg or something, or worse, one of her cats!” he continued in an exasperated tone, while Harry just gaped at him.

            “So, you’re not weirded out by it?” Harry tried, not quite meeting him in the eye.

            “I live with a wizard who goes to a magical castle in Scotland of all places, is best friends with giants and dragons and spends his time reading by hanging upside-down from the roof like a bat, do you think liking blokes is the _weirdest_ thing you can come up with?” Dudley drawled out in a single breath, taking another chip like this was just casual weather chat. “You being gay is completely underwhelming at this point.” he waved it off.

            When he put it like that, Harry had to concede that his cousin had a fairly good point. He sighed out of relief and laughed like a maniac, while Dudley just rolled his eyes.

            “I’m sorry, I was just so scared to tell you, and you’re so accepting of it that it threw me off!” Harry exclaimed, a million emotions running through him, mostly happiness and gratefulness.

            “Oh, come off it.” Dudley closed his eyes for a second and punctuated every word. “I go to Smeltings, an all-boys school, do you think they didn’t sit us down for a more serious talk about sexuality in our first week?” at which Harry was suddenly interested in just what kind of progressive school he managed to get into. “We’re about to enter puberty and those kinds of things will come up so they talked with us and just let us know that it’s okay to come up to any of the counsellors to talk it out if we feel like it.” Dudley shrugged. “Look, what century do you think you are in?” Dudley tuned to Harry fully on the bed. “It’s not a big deal anymore, and you have the luck to be in one of the more accepting places of the world, so just stop feeling so scared because that’s not the brave Harry that I know.”

            Harry was beyond moved at the other boy’s words, how mature and understanding he was. He buried his face into Dudley’s shirt and hugged him close, while Dudley rubbed his back affectionately. It was enough, it seemed, to do it once and get the bravery you needed to do it again, because in that moment Harry felt like saying it to the world. Although Hooting administrators might have a word with him for actually breaking their servers from that.

            “So, I have a couple of questions now that you’re calm.” Dudley announced after Harry took a breath.

            “Go ahead.” he nodded.

            “How did you find out?” Dudley prodded curiously.

            “Well, there was this man at Hogwarts…” Harry went on to explain, but was suddenly interrupted.

            “WHAT!” Dudley nearly doubled over in shock, before the boy realised how one might interpret what he said. “ALREADY?!”

            “Dear god, _no_ , Dudley!” Harry sounded exasperated at the implication. “It wasn’t like that at all! He’s twelve times my age, for crying out loud!”

            “Um…” Dudley looked even more shocked than before, if it was possible, and Harry had to slap his own face, because he was making a mess of this.

            “No, he looks like he’s barely thirty, but he’s centuries old, he has something that keeps him young.” Harry continued, calming down a hyperventilating Dudley. “And he looked handsome, I mean _really_ handsome, and I didn’t understand why I was so weird around him, not until I stared at his – well…”

            “His arse?” Dudley tried to supply helpfully, popping another Pringle into his mouth.

            “And a really nice one.” Harry sighed, before shaking his head, making Dudley snicker like the twelve-year-old he was. “And then I realised I had always looked at boys rather than girls. Girls don’t even register to me like boys do, they look nice and some are really beautiful but it just…”

            “Does nothing at all for you?” Dudley continued where Harry trailed off. “Like the butterflies in your tummy thing they all talk about in movies, it doesn’t happen to you with girls, only boys.”

            “Yes, something like that, but no butterflies yet, just some… _interest_. But before that, I didn’t know I even _looked_ at boys that way, but then I searched back and I realised that I had been staring at boys for as long as I know.”

            “And that’s why you’re so sure of it.” Dudley agreed, at which Harry nodded, looking out the window.

            “Yeah. Oh, god, I just remembered I married Jeremy from kindergarten!” Harry put his face into his palms from mortification, while Dudley wheezed like an asthmatic gorilla. “ _How_ did it take me this long? I had the bouquet!”

            “Cheer up, Harry, it takes some folks lifetimes to figure it out, you’re only twelve.” Dudley shoved his cousin playfully.

            “And not even that.” Harry chuckled.

            But as it is, all sweet moments must come to an end at some point. The rest of the day flew by in a flurry of activities, involving cleaning, cooking and dressing up, or in Harry’s case, throwing bits of magic to hurry his part of the process when no one was looking, although gathering all of the dust from the living room into one single ball and then throwing it out did make uncle Vernon a bit suspicious.

            “Can’t I just go up to my room and pretend I don’t exist?” Harry complained as Petunia was trying to fix his hair and swab at imaginary flecks on his shirt a few minutes before the Masons were supposed to arrive.

            “Don’t be silly, you’re a part of this family, not some slave who is not to be seen.” Petunia scoffed.

            “More like the family pet.” Dudley elbowed Harry playfully as he walked past.

            “Because I can do tricks. Clever one.” Harry appreciated the pun, but his aunt didn’t think it was funny.

            “Don’t antagonise your cousin, Dudley, and put your shirt into your pants!” she scolded him, without even looking in his direction.

            “It’s stuffy like that, and it makes me look stupid!” Dudley huffed.

            “More than usual?” Harry quipped innocently as Petunia glared at him.

            “What is going on with you two?” she demanded of her boys.

            “Nothing, god! We’re just poking fun at each other!” Dudley groaned.

            “Yes, and I’m winning.” Harry grinned, full of himself.

            “Can’t you do something that doesn’t involve insulting each other? One of these days you will say something mean that you will both regret.” she said as she released Harry from her clutches.

            “Nah, we’re fine.” Harry waved her off. “Seriously, though, about that pretending I don’t exist plan…”

            “Go!” she shooed him off. “Help Vernon with the table. And _don’t_ touch the cake, it’s for dessert.” she shouted after her nephew as he made his way to the kitchen, where Vernon was having trouble identifying the various cutlery needed for a formal dinner.

            “Blasted spoons, why do they come in… Ah, Harry!” he exclaimed. “Can you help me out here with the forks and stuff? I can’t seem to figure it out.”

            “Uncle Vernon, we aren’t serving soup, one fork and knife per person should suffice and one small fork for cake.” Harry came to the rescue as he took the objects and started to place them in orderly fashion.

            “Right, right.” his uncle agreed, clearly not in his best element at the moment. “Where are they, they should’ve been here by now…”

            The doorbell rang, signalling the beginning of what was going to be a very boring and ordinary evening for Harry, who suddenly missed the adventures of his gang back at Hogwarts now more than ever. He loved his family, he really did, but having been through so much excitement with his friends, dinners with bosses were the last thing on his mind.

            Still, he tried his best to be the charming young boy for his relatives as Mr. and Mrs. Mason were welcomed by Petunia into the house. The pair were an elderly couple, but also very proper and upstanding. They weren’t mean or anything, if anything they were perfectly fine and polite and they seemed to take a liking to Dudley for some reason, who was normally not used to be chosen over Harry as the poster child.

            The dinner went on normally, with pleasant conversations about nothing in particular and uncle Vernon trying not to fumble over his own words every two sentences. Luckily, Petunia seemed to be trained into Vernon Dursley panic mode and carefully and artfully interjected and helped along whenever it seemed that the large man would make a fool of himself.

            All of this left Harry a bit isolated, to tell the truth. Sure, the Masons discussed with him certain things, but they were treating him like a child, so the topics weren’t that varied besides school and girls. Dudley nearly snickered a bit too loudly into his pork when Mr. Mason asked Harry if he had a girlfriend, but luckily Petunia intervened before the boy had an answer for _that_ type of invasive question. Who has a girlfriend or even a boyfriend at twelve? Silly people, that’s who.

            Halfway through the tea before desert, Harry’s phone vibrated in his pocket, a saving rumbling at that, giving him the excuse he needed to extract himself from Vernon’s jokes about golf.

            “Please excuse me, I have to take this, it’s about school.” Harry explained as he sat up from the couch, passing Dudley who looked at him pleadingly to not leave him alone with this lot.

            “At this hour?” Mrs. Mason found herself speaking with the poshest outrage Harry had ever heard.

            “Biology project, very tricky and important.” Harry explained as he went out in the hallway upstairs to answer. “Hey, Hermione, what’s up?” he said cheerfully in his device as he made sure there was no chance to be overheard.

            _“Hey yourself, where did you disappear to? You haven’t said anything since lunch and I need your opinion on that Charms essay as soon as possible!”_ his friend admonished him.

            “Dinner with Vernon’s boss and his wife, couldn’t get out of it. You’re a lifesaver, by the way.” Harry laughed as he rested his back on the wall, thankful to have someone other than the elderly couple to chat with for a minute.

            _“Oh, I’m so sorry, I completely forgot you said something about that yesterday. I can call you back later if…”_

            “No, no! It’s alright, I’m happy to do it anyway. At least it gives me an excuse to…” Harry said as he approached his door to get his laptop and take a look at the Charms essay, but as he got to the doorknob he thought he hear sounds coming from _inside_ his room. “Wait, hold on a second.” he whispered into his phone as he very carefully opened the door and peeked inside, ready for anything.

            Although what he witnessed gave him pause. There was a small creature, barely taller than Harry’s knees, wearing a dirty rag as clothing, with a bald head, bat ears and big eyes, green as tennis balls, making sounds of joy.

            “Hermione, I’m going to have to call you back, there’s a house elf currently jumping on my bed.” Harry said into his phone.

            _“Wait, WHAT!”_ came the obvious reaction.

            “Text you later.” Harry ended the conversation, effectively shutting Hermione mid-sentence. Which was undoubtedly rude of him, but she would forgive him. “Um, hello?” Harry tried as he pocked his phone and entered his room.

            The house elf stopped jumping immediately and turned around to face the owner of the bed he was on. He gasped, almost reverently so, and slowly climbed down.

            “Harry Potter! It is an honour, sir!” the house elf bowed before Harry, which was nothing he didn’t experience with the house elves at the school, but it still felt pretty weird as far as the boy was concerned.

            “Um… who are you?” Harry tried to understand all of this by first attempting to get a name.

            “Dobby, sir. Dobby the house elf!” the elf proudly presented himself.

            “Not to be rude or anything, but this isn’t the best time to have a house elf in my bedroom. There’s Muggles downstairs.” Harry explained his position as he closed the door behind him.

            “Oh, yes sir, Dobby understand!” the elf apologised. “It’s just that… Dobby came to say… It is difficult, sir.” Dobby fidgeted with his fingers.

            “Well, why don’t you sit down first?” Harry tried for politeness, but apparently that was the wrong thing to say.

            “S-si-sit… Sit down?” the elf made a terrible face, before bursting into sobs as tears started running down his wrinkled skin, which made Harry feel terribly awful.

            “Dobby, please, don’t cry!” Harry tried to comfort the elf, mindful of the guests downstairs. “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything!” he tried to apologise.

            “ _Offend_ Dobby?” the other turned to Harry, immediately stopping his emotional outburst. “Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, but _never_ has he been asked to sit down by a _wizard_. Like an… _equal_.” he barely whispered that last part.

            “Well, you must’ve not met any decent wizards, then.” Harry tried for a joke.

            “Oh, no, I haven’t!” the elf replied with a smile, but then his ears dropped to his cheeks and his face turned horrified once more. “That was an awful thing to say. Bad Dobby!” the elf shouted as he started to bang his head on Harry’s dresser.

            “ _Murmuro._ ” Harry whispered and threw his hand discreetly at the door, making sure no one could hear the commotion. “Dobby, _stop_!” he commanded as best he could, despair in his voice shaking the words. The elf stopped almost immediately, unable to stop himself from following an order reflexively. “What are you doing? Are you all right?” Harry inquired.

            “Dobby had to punish himself, sir.” the elf revealed as he made his way to the chair, a bit dizzy. “Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir.”

            Harry almost said that he did, in fact, technically spoke ill of his family, but he thought it would launch the elf into another self-punishing act, so instead he said:

            “Your family? I assume you mean the wizarding family whom you work for.”

            “Serve, sir, Dobby is to serve the same wizarding family forever.” the elf answered. “If they ever knew Dobby was here…” Dobby shuddered at the thought and Harry felt very uneasy as he sat down on the bed, across from the creature. “But Dobby had to come to Harry Potter. To _warn_ him!” the elf continued, boring his big eyes into Harry, pleading for something. “Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year!” the elf went down to a whisper.

            “What.” Harry deadpanned, blinking several times in confusion. Of all the things he expected, this was not one of them.

            “There is a plot, a plot to make most terrible things happen!” Dobby continued his prediction.

            “What terrible things? Who’s plotting them?” Harry blurted out, unthinkingly.

            “I… can’t…say…” the elf struggled, and then Harry got it and launched himself to take the lamp from the dresser before Dobby had a chance to punish himself.

“ _No_.” Harry ordered. “Don’t punish yourself when you’re with me. Please.” he added that last one and Dobby was nearly in tears for a second time that evening, but Harry pressed on. “You’ve been ordered not to say anything about this plot, correct?” at which the elf nodded. “And you can’t reveal who is your family to me because your family is part of this plot and you have to protect their interests.” and Dobby nodded even more firmly. “So you have to follow orders to the letter, meaning you can’t tell just about anyone the plan… But I’m not just anyone to you, am I?” Harry realised. “You’re a bit of a rebel, aren’t you?” Harry complimented the elf, but the other only looked even more conflicted. “It’s all right, I am not jud- “

            “Harry, are you all right up there?” came a muffled voice from the hallway and the boy barely had time to react.

            “Quick, in the closet!” he practically shoved Dobby in there, just in time, because aunt Petunia was in his doorway for a second time that day. Harry quickly got his phone out and pressed it to his chest in the second his aunt was looking for him on the celling like he was this morning. “Hey, aunt Petunia.” Harry tried for nonchalance as he closed the slowly opening door of the closet. “Sorry, still on the call.” he gestured with his phone as his aunt looked a bit unconvinced.

            “You’ve been up here a few minutes, I thought to check.” his aunt replied cautiously as Dobby tried the door once more before Harry closed it without breaking eye contact.

            “Everything is fine, just have to finish something with Hermione over the phone. Snape’s essays are a bit tricky to do.” Harry came up with an explanation that wasn’t technically untrue, as Dobby still tried the door, but knew to keep silent.

            “Alright. Just be downstairs before the dessert is served and don’t take too long, it’s rude, and if you embarrass me, I’ll ground you for the next decade. Understood?” his aunt bristled. “And fix that door, would you?” she remarked as she exited the room and Harry left out a breath he didn’t knew he was holding.

            “Sorry about that, she can’t know you’re here.” Harry explained as he opened the door and a stumbling Dobby tried to regain his footing.

            “It’s all right, sir, Dobby is used to it.” the elf replied and Harry felt mortified from his actions. “But Harry Potter still must not go back to Hogwarts!” the elf repeated.

            “You know I can’t do that. I have to complete my education, I’ve got friends there!” Harry shook his head, but Dobby was shaking harder.

            “Sir, you can’t…” Dobby was pleading, but Harry wouldn’t have it.

            “I’m sorry, Dobby. I can’t do that. I _have_ to go back.”

            “Dobby is sorry as well, sir. And Harry Potter must not be angry at Dobby.” the elf looked at his feet.

            “I’m not angry, Dobby, I’m…” Harry tried to calm the elf, kneeling down next to him, but the elf suddenly snatched his phone from his hands and bolted down the door before Harry could use his powers to suspend him.

            He chased after the elf on the hall and down the stairs, finally coming to an end before the kitchen. His family and the guests were dangerously close and Dobby stopped to look around.

            “Dobby! Get back here!” Harry tried, but the elf shook his head, infuriating Harry further. He snapped his fingers, making the cake the Dursleys were going to serve float in mid-air.

            “Dobby, I’m warning you…” Harry threatened, but the elf was not to be deterred.

            “I’m sorry, sir. This is for Harry Potter’s own good.” he declared before snapping his fingers again and making the cake fly away.

            But Dobby couldn’t know that Harry had been through much tougher situations than this one, so he ran past him, taking back his phone with a snap of a hand, pocketing it, and then taking the cake’s support with him. The dessert was flying by itself slowly, but surely, towards Mrs. Mason’s head, but thankfully the guests had their backs to the kitchen and the Dursleys weren’t paying attention.

            Harry made his way to them as silently as possible, trying to catch the cake back on the support. It was one second of a heart stop, when Dobby snapped his fingers once more and the cake was going to drop on the guests, but Harry already had his free hand ready to suspend it in the air. He quickly put in on the support, blowing out a silent breath of relief, before noticing that his aunt and Dudley were staring at him and uncle Vernon was slowly trailing off when he also noticed his nephew standing there like an idiot.

            “Dessert, anyone?” Harry jovially announced, easing the tension he was creating. Luckily, the Masons didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

            Harry thought he heard a slight _pop_ from his behind and he knew that Dobby finally left the building, hopefully not with another plan to keep Harry out of Hogwarts.

            The rest of the evening went along perfectly in order and the Masons cleared out at exactly 9 on the clock, graciously complimenting the Dursley adults for their home and their well behaved children. It was still not enough for aunt Petunia to not give the side-eye to Harry, but she let it go for the moment, as did Dudley. Uncle Vernon was only pleased that everything went fine and that he would get his well-deserved promotion in the end.

            When everything was calm again, Harry checked his phone to see a myriad of messages on the group chat, with Hermione making up most of the conversation, texting her worries to the rest of their friends, who didn’t have a clue what to do.

            Harry @Scarheads: _You guys aren’t going to believe this._

Hannah @Scarheads: _Just why was there a house elf in your house?_  

            Draco @Scarheads: _And your bedroom, for that matter. Did you get one?_

Hermione @Scarheads: _Harry? What’s going on?_

Harry @Scarheads: _I don’t know. He was here trying to keep me out of Hogwarts for some reason. Said that there is a terrible plot and that I can’t go back there  this year._

Neville @Scarheads: _I can’t leave my phone for five minutes before something happens._

Draco @Scarheads: _Nice of you to join us. Where in the blazes where you today?_

Neville @Scarheads: _Out with my gran. Couldn’t exactly have my phone with me then._

Hannah @Scarheads: _The important issue, people._

Hermione @Scarheads: _Han’s right. Did the house elf say anything about what will happen that’s so bad you can’t go back?_

Harry @Scarheads: _He couldn’t say that. He’d been ordered not to. But tell you what, whatever family has Dobby as a house elf, is a really awful one. He had to punish himself several times for even being here._

Harry @Scarheads: _That’s his name, by the way. Dobby, the house elf._

Hermione @Scarheads: _That’s awful! I can’t believe there are people like that._

Hannah @Scarheads: _What is this, the sixteenth century? House elves are servants, not slaves._

Hermione @Scarheads: _And where is the distinction???_

Hannah @Scarheads: _The difference is that servants work for you in exchange for something, not exist to please your every whim or to be your punching bag. They need our ambient magic to survive, but some people use that as a leash to hold them._

Hannah @Scarheads _: http://en.witchypedia.org/House_Elf#History_

Neville @Scarheads: _Did you just out-Hermione Hermione?_

Hermione @Scarheads: _That’s not a word._

Harry @Scarheads: _It totally is._

Harry @Scarheads: _But I don’t know what to do about Dobby and his warning. He nearly exposed magic to unsuspecting muggles in my home. I doubt it’s the last I   heard of him if he’s that determined._

Hannah @Scarheads: _I could ask my dad to show me records of the house elves in Britain at the moment. If he has a family, that means he’s registered somewhere  and to someone._

            Harry @Scarheads: _Only if you can do it in a subtle way. I don’t want to get Dobby into more trouble._

Hermione @Scarheads: _Are we really doing this again?_

Neville @Scarheads: _Did you think you would have a normal year at Hogwarts? Ever?_

            Hermione @Scarheads: _Touché._

Hannah @Scarheads: _Harry, have you considered that this might be a prank or something? Someone playing tricks on you?_

Neville @Scarheads: _Who would do something like that?_

Hermione @Scarheads: _I know a few Ravenclaws who wouldn’t suffer if Harry wasn’t there to fight for the best grades, so it’s not inconceivable._

Harry @Scarheads: _And I know a lot of people who wouldn’t want me back there for good._

Hannah @Scarheads: _You did not just spell inconceivable right on the first try._

Hermione @Scarheads: _Oh, but I did._

Harry @Scarheads: _But I don’t think Dobby was faking it. There was genuine terror in him._

Neville @Scarheads: _Draco? What do you think?_

            At first, Harry just stood there, in his bed with the covers on, waiting for the next reply on the group chat. But then he got a funny feeling in his stomach, like something was out of place. Scrolling up to the last thirty messages or so, he then realised that Draco hadn’t said more than two words during their discussion. He simply disappeared half an hour earlier and no one even noticed.

            Hermione @Scarheads: _Where is he, anyway?_

Hannah @Scarheads: _Probably at his vanity, brushing his hair. I wouldn’t worry._

Neville @Scarheads: _He’s not picking up._

Harry @Scarheads: _Look, he’s probably got to hide his phone because one of his parents was near, no need to panic._

Harry @Scarheads: _I’m going to bed, it’s been too much of an eventful night for Surrey suburbia._

Hannah @Scarheads: _Someone’s lost their endurance for mysteries and plots._

Harry chose to ignore her and instead put his phone into his charger and then settle into his covers for a good night’s rest, ever so slightly wondering just where did Draco disappear to.

            He didn’t have to worry for long.

            In the dead of the night, after what Harry simply felt like minutes, he was startled awake by something large, like a flying beast, that made an awful rumbling sound, but sang the most calming tune. He then realised that he was half dreaming, because a few seconds later he discovered the beast was nowhere to be seen. Instead, it was his phone that was ringing at three in the morning for some god-forsaken reason.

            Harry instinctively reached to silence it, thinking whatever it was it could wait, but even so he felt his sleep wash away from him and resigned to deal with whomever had the audacity to wake him up.

            Surprisingly, the caller ID read Draco as the perpetrator. Thinking this was some kind of emergency, Harry answered.

            “Hello?”

            “ _Potter! I see you’re awake.”_ came the too cheery voice in the speaker.

            “Draco?” Harry groggily asked, wiping away his sleep tears.

            “ _No, it’s the bloody tooth fairy… Yes of course it’s me, you dolt_ ” Draco tore his ear a new one. “ _Do you have a secluded space somewhere around you that you can talk with someone and not be seen or heard?_ ”

            “What? What are you…?” Harry tried to understand, but his brain was still booting.

            “ _Just answer the question, Harry_.” Draco sighed.

            “Out back in my yard, there’s a patio that we use for outdoor eating that can be closed off.” Harry replied automatically.

            “ _Great. Come down there as soon as you can._ ” was all that he got as an answer before Draco ended the call.

            Puzzled completely, Harry made a move to the door, but stopped a few inches short of the doorknob when he heard Vernon’s unmistakable steps down the hall. It seemed like Vernon was having one of his sneaky midnight feedings that he swore he never did. Decidedly not keen on risking it, Harry opened the window and put on his invisibility cloak.

            He had never done this before, outside of training to fly with it, so he had to move carefully. Floating horizontally towards the window, he spared a thought to think how ridiculous he might’ve looked from behind, with his soles and the front of his legs visible, as the cloak shuffled on the floor.

            He raised himself up once outside, careful to remind himself that anti-inertia spells were not something applied to his home or his surroundings, and moving too fast and then stopping will throw the cloak off of him.

            He floated to his backyard and landed near the now closed patio, before casting another look behind and then opened the door.

            Inside, he was met with four other people, all around his age, in various states of sleep and awake, all in their night wear. They looked unfazed by the door that seemingly opened by itself and they all looked expectantly at the invisible shape of Harry.

            “What are you doing here?” Harry breathed in amazement as he hugged them all one by one.

            “It’s nice to see you too, Harry.” Hannah mocked him after escaping his clutches.

            “I’m happy to see you all, of course, but how did you…” he trailed off, ending his last hug of the group with Draco, before looking at him questioningly.

            “There’s something that we have to talk about.” he said with trepidation as he moved to the right to reveal a sixth occupant of the already crowded patio. But for this one, space wouldn’t be an issue.

            “Dobby?” Harry blinked, then looked at everyone else in confusion, but their expressions, sans Draco, were not much more enlightening than his. “What are you doing here, who…”

            But then it clicked. He didn’t need for Draco to explain, because the answer was painfully obvious.

            “Dobby, as you probably already guessed, is my house elf.” the blond vaguely gestured toward the little creature in question, who pointedly looked at the floor and refused to say anything, as if any movement would cause him immense pain. “Oh, relax, would you?” Draco said to the elf, making him look up immediately, shock on his face. “Nobody’s going to punish you.” Draco sighed, as if this was something of an old argument between them. Hermione fidgeted nervously in her spot.

            “That’s not true, sir.” the elf argued in a very weak voice and Harry had to double check that he wasn’t dreaming. The others shook their head when he cast them another look, meaning that they still didn’t know what was fully going on. “If mister Malfoy finds out about this, sir…”

            “Father won’t get a word of what’s going on here because you won’t tell him and neither will we, do you understand?” Draco commanded.

            “Yes, sir.” Dobby bowed his head, relief in his voice.

            “Draco…” Harry started dangerously, something everyone felt instantly. “Just what is going on?”

            “After you said you had an encounter with an elf and then you said his name, I figured out it was my Dobby that nearly got you into trouble.” Draco explained, sitting on one of the chairs, making everyone relax and take a seat as well. Harry sat next to Neville on the arm chairs, while Hannah and Hermione opted to use the same lawn chair as a stool. “I called him to me and ordered him to tell me everything he knew. And he did.” he finished cryptically.

            “Wait, _order_ him?” Hermione interjected. “Couldn’t you just ask like a _normal_ person?” she chided her friend.

            “He had to, Hermione.” Hannah patiently replied, unlike her. “Dobby can’t betray Lucius Malfoy willingly, even if he wants to, he must be given a reason, which in this case was Draco giving the order. He can’t go against his family’s wishes.”

            “But he can choose to interpret the extent and the meaning of it.” Harry recollected. “Right, Dobby?” he addressed the elf.

            “Yes, sir. Dobby has to follow orders as they are told.” the elf replied.

            “Which means that what can be _interpreted_ can be ignored, should he choose to.” Draco finished over him. “But enough about that, I didn’t call you here to debate house elf psychology, I got you all here to tell you something important.”

            “Wait a minute, _how_ did you get here?” Harry remembered the more important question at the moment. “Dumbledore said I have protections in place so that no one can just wind up here from the magical world!”

            “Besides the point right now…” Draco sighed. “And Dobby got here because he’s a house elf first of all, he can Apparate absolutely anywhere and that protection is against people who would do you harm and I think we established long ago that no one here will want that!” he gestured to the rest of their friends in an aggressive manner, which Harry took as his cue to shut up and let him explain. “Right, so I asked Dobby to tell me everything he knew, which wasn’t much, mind you, but what I gathered is this: father intends to open the Chamber of Secrets.”

            Two gasps where hear simultaneously, one from Neville and one from Hannah. Hermione and Harry shared a look before the bushy haired girl dared to ask in the silence that followed.

            “And what is that?”

            “Wait, you don’t know?!” Hannah whipped her head to face Hermione, startling the other girl.

            “No? And neither does Harry. Come on, guys, the both of us are nerds but we don’t exactly have the knowledge of wizarding culture that you three grew up with, so…” she trailed off dejectedly.

            “An elaboration would be nice?” Harry finished for her.

            “Right, you know how there are four Founders of Hogwarts?” Neville started to speak a second before Draco opened and promptly shut his mouth, effectively taking over as the story teller. “After they started the school, they had a falling out. Three of them, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff wanted to teach all magical children… But Slytherin didn’t, he wanted the school to accept only children that were descended from other wizards. Pure-bloods, in other words.”

            “But that obviously didn’t happen, seeing as I am a half-blood and Hermione is a Muggleborn.” Harry commented, at which Neville nodded.         

            “The infighting got so bad that eventually Slytherin had to leave the school,” Neville continued his tale, “but not before he left something behind, something that would ensure his plan to rid the school of those he did not deem worthy. He created a secret chamber somewhere in the castle and in it placed _something_ that would make his vision of an all pure-blood school come true.”

            “What could be capable of something like that?” Hermione said in a horrified whisper.

            “No one knows.” Neville shrugged. “But it must be something terrible.”

            “Hang on…” Harry put his hands up. “How can we be sure this thing is real? It happened over a thousand years ago, how can we even have evidence that…”

            “Because it already happened once before.” Draco regained his voice. “Fifty years ago, several students were injured and one of them in fact died. And now my father wants to open it again.” he stared at the floor, struggling to find something to say afterwards.

            “Does that mean...” Neville breathed in terror.

            “Not really. Grandmother Druella’s third cousin was a Gaunt, which technically makes _me_ one of the descendants of Slytherin, but I’m not his Heir by any means, the bloodline’s been too diluted for that to happen. And besides, it’s on my mother’s side, father has nothing to do with it.” Draco explained.

            “ _Whoa_!” Harry did a double take, nearly falling out of his chair. “What the hell do you mean _you’re descended_ from Salazar Slytherin?!”

            “ _Very much distantly,_ Potter!” Draco huffed in defiance. “I cannot claim to be his direct descendant when there’s six generations of cousins between me and the closest common ancestor.”

            “Still, the implications alone… Why did you never tell me?” Harry felt no shame to guilt trip Draco in this conversation, seeing as the boy hand an entire year to disclose this and the topic of wizarding ancestry came up more than a few times.

            “Look, Harry, it’s not something important, alright? Either one of us in this room except for Granger can claim to be from almost every major line in the British wizarding world through some common progenitor, but it can mean squat unless you’re closer to the main line and in this case… I’d be a walking stereotype.” Draco sighed dejectedly. “My family, my _dark_ wizard family being descended from a blood purist and also served under the current blood purist of our age? Not something I’m keen on boasting.”

            “You’re right, I never thought it that way and I’m sorry.” Harry conceded. “So, back to your father’s plan…”

            “Do you think he has some way of knowing how to open the Chamber, even if he has no connection to Slytherin?” Hannah made an educated guess.

            “Dobby?” Draco motioned to the silent elf.

            “Yes, sir.” the elf bowed his head _reverently_. “As far as Dobby understands it, master Malfoy… the other one, sir…” Dobby specified, at which Draco rolled his eyes in a _duh_ manner, “plans to use something to open the Chamber of Secrets and rid the school of muggle born children, but his true goal, sir, is to make Headmaster Dumbledore leave the school because of it. But Dobby doesn’t know how, sir.” the elf apologised.

            “You got us this far, so thank you for that.” Draco said to Dobby, before turning his attention back to the rest of the room. “And while it’s not much, it’s at the very least something.”

            “Draco, since your grandmother was the one that was descended from Slytherin, could _she_ have been the one to open the chamber fifty years ago?” Hermione tried to guess.

            “I thought as much at first, but she was already out of Hogwarts by the time it happened back in 1963. So that means there was someone else.” the blond scratched the back of his head.

            “But who? And what connection do they have with your father?” Neville asked.

            “Isn’t that the million-galleon question.” Hermione rubbed her temples.

            “So, to summarise, we are looking for someone who is descended from a Founder, is a blood purist to the extreme, went to Hogwarts sometime between 1956 and 1963, has something against Dumbledore personally and is connected to your father in a way that would make Malfoy senior act like this.” Hannah recited.

            “Went to school in ninety-sixty… You’re not actually suggesting that a _first-year_ would be capable of doing something like purging the school of students?” Hermione reacted while Harry was busy with a horrified revelation right in front of him.

            “Uh… Have you _met_ us?” Hannah gestured wildly. “Imagine an evil version of us and you’ll see where I am getting at.”

            “Okay, fair point.” Hermione conceded after a second.

            What followed as a few moments of absolute silence as everyone contemplated the words that were exchanged that night. Everyone that is, except for one.

            “Oh, God.” Harry laughed more out of irritation than anything, making everyone turn to look at him like he was crazy. Which wasn’t a new thing. “You guys do realise who it is that Hannah described, don’t you?” he continued, standing up.

            “I don’t follow.” Draco blinked.

            “Oh, _come on,_ you have all spent too much time with me to behave this clueless.” Harry laughed once more, but he still received blank stares. “Fine, then let me put it this way. Dobby?” Harry turned to the house elf, making him jump slightly in surprise and make a small startled noise, something that made Harry feel avenged for the stunt the creature tried to pull on him a few hours prior. “Who would you describe as an _absolute_ pure-blood _maniac_ , intent on _killing_ Muggleborns because they’re Muggleborns, and has enough influence on Lucius Malfoy that can drive the man to adhere to the same way of thinking?” Harry asked, stressing the world dramatically.

            “Certain members of the wizarding high society, sir?” Dobby tried for an answer, obviously not getting it yet.

            “Close, but not quite.” Harry clicked his tongue.

            “Oh, Harry, would you just…!” Hermione groaned and started to chide her friend, but he persisted.

            “Shhh, I’m having a moment here.” Harry shushed her up, holding up a finger, while still looking at Dobby. “Think, there are certain people that would fit with what I described, but there is _someone_ that would take that to the extreme, someone who has already proved is capable of that. Publicly.” Harry tried.

            “Well, sir, Dobby can only think of one man that fits the description.” the elf replied fearfully, and rightfully so.

            “Could you name the person for the rest of us?” Hannah asked impatiently.

            “Dobby cannot say _his_ name, miss. Dobby has learned not to.” the elf whispered.

            “And there you have it.” Harry said more triumphantly than he should feel at the moment.

            “What? He didn’t even say…” Hannah started a tirade, but Neville cut her off.

            “Wait, _Voldemort_?” Neville found himself saying, frowning something fierce and turning to Harry, who nodded.

            “Mister Longbottom shouldn’t say his name, sir!” Dobby cried like he was in pain.

            “Oh my god.” Hermione stated it more than exclaiming it. “I can’t believe this is actually happening again.”

            “I can!” Neville defended his position and Harry could kiss him. But that thought quickly turned somewhere he _really_ didn’t want to delve into, so he paid attention to the exchange in front of him. “Think about it, is there any other person capable of something like this?”

            “Well, no, not really, but it doesn’t mean…” Hermione started but stopped mid-sentence, mouth open, staring into nothing for a couple of seconds. “Actually, what am I thinking, of _course_ it’s him, who else would be merciless enough that they would attack children?” she continued, staring at Harry, who then realised he was famous in the world for a reason.

            “Bugger that! How do we stop him?” Hannah huffed and motioned them all to come up with an idea.

            “Short of locking my father for the next year? I doubt we have the power to stop it from happening, exactly. But we do have the means to intervene.” Draco pondered.

            “You have something in mind?” Neville raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

            “It’s rather simple, isn’t it? Find the Chamber, get inside, kill the monster.” Draco shrugged nonchalantly, like he was talking about a hike up a very small hill.

            “Oh, yes, let us embark on thine quest to find thy mythical Chamber of Secrets and slay thy ancient best which layeth beneath.” Hannah replied with a faux-posh tone. “Do you _want_ to get killed?”

            “Do _you_ want to let Granger here be in danger?” Draco stood up, suddenly very angry, making everyone else jump. “She’s my friend and I’ll be damned if I let _father_ do something that would get her killed!”

            “As touched as I am, Draco, and I sincerely mean that, we can’t just go and defeat something we know nothing about.” Hermione calmed him down.

            “Why not?” Neville supplied. “We did it before with the death course.”

            “Which, if you remember, was deliberately designed to be easy, because it was a trap, so us beating it wasn’t that big of a deal after all.” the bushy-haired girl retorted with resentment.

            “But we didn’t know that!” Draco exclaimed in a mocking singing voice.

            “But we do now.” Hannah stood by her point. “The death course was something that was just there to protect one artefact, we are talking about something that’s deliberately trying to kill people and we don’t even know how it does that or what are its weaknesses. We need to be prepared.”

            “Harry?” Neville spoke. “What do you think? You’re the leader, what should we do?”

            Harry blinked a few times when first addressed, before blurting out:

            “Who said I was the leader here?” which earned him four looks of ‘really’. “Yes, fine, I’m the leader, as long as we are finally making it official. And my _order_ , as it were, is for all of you to go home.”

            “What?” came the simultaneous shouts of disbelief.

            “Look, we can’t do anything about it now, and I need some time to think it over. Meanwhile, Lucius Malfoy won’t do anything until school starts so I suggest we take some time to find out more and then come back with an actual plan that’s not made up on the spot at half past three in the morning.” Harry rubbed his eyes in exhaustion.

            “Still, we can’t just…” Neville started, but Harry had an idea.

            “Dobby, if I may…” the boy addressed the elf, who once again bowed his head slightly. “Can you keep an eye out on Lucius and report back to Draco?”

            “Dobby can’ break his master’s privacy, sir.” the elf responded fearfully.

            “But if _I_ ask you?” Draco inquired, cogs in his brain turning at rapid speed.

            “Dobby cannot disobey his family’s direct orders and Dobby cannot tell master Draco what he should say to his friends, sir.” the bat-eared creature replied with a sly smile.

            “Then it’s settled. Dobby, I hereby order you to find out as much as you can about this plan of fathers _without_ putting yourself in danger and report anything and everything you find to me. You are not in any way to let him or anyone else not in his room know that you are doing this, or punish yourself for doing it. Are we clear on that?” Draco intoned formally.

            “Yes, sir. Dobby will help, master Draco, sir.” the elf bowed so hard his nose touched the ground.

            “Thank you, Dobby. You’ve been a great help.” Draco smiled and the elf looked very much close to tears. Hermione too, for that matter.

            “I still don’t like the fact that we aren’t stopping your father right now in some way.” Hannah crossed her arms and leaned on Hermione for physical support.

            “What good would we do, without any proof as we always are?” Hermione accepted Harry’s reasoning and the fact that she was a resting place for a suddenly tired Hannah. “Harry’s right, he can’t do anything right now because all the Muggleborns are at home and not in school.”

            “Yes, it’s like making an omelette with a chicken instead of with an egg and then there would be us crying foul for him doing that when he can reason that he was just making fried chicken.” Harry explained rather poorly, but it was close to 4 AM and his point got across anyway.

            “Still need an egg for the chicken…” Neville muttered to himself, but Hannah caught it immediately with her super hearing.

            “I swear to Merlin’s baggy Y-fronts, if you bring that argument up again, I will punch you in the throat, Longbottom!” she gritted.

            “ _Okay,_ ” Harry placated the obviously exhausted children in the small, breakable shack, “time for bed. We will pick this up later. And it was nice seeing you all in person, after nearly two months here so if Dobby doesn’t mind…” he trailed off, looking at the elf in question hopingly.

            “Dobby would be more than happy to bring master Draco and his friends together whenever they require Dobby to do so, sir!” the elf jumped and then remembered to bow before Harry, lest he be reprimanded by Draco for forgetting etiquette. Of course, the blond rolled his eyes discreetly and ignored all the posturing.

            “We’ll need you again tomorrow night.” Draco added solemnly, but that might’ve been caused by the sleepless state he was in. “Your birthdays?” he raised an eyebrow towards Neville and Harry’s questioning looks. “I intended of course for it to be a surprise to gather all of us with the help of my house elf, but obviously…” he left the sentence hang.

            “Yes, that would be lovely.” Hermione gave it some thought. “I’ll set up the place, Draco gets you there… Hannah, could you…?”

            “Bring the food?” she huffed in amusement. “Please, you know who you’re talking to.” she waved it off.

            “An insufferable prat?” Hermione replied sarcastically, clicking her tongue in feigned annoyance.

            “ _Ahem_.” Harry fake-coughed.

            “ _Another_ insufferable prat?” Hermione repeated in the same tone.

            “Shove off, you know you love me!” Hannah laughed and lightly pushed Hermione where their shoulders met, in a show of affection.

            “You’re begging to grow on me.” Hermione sighed. “Quite literally, it seems.” she added with a look, but her inability to keep her smile on the inside showed she meant nothing by it.

            After the snickers from everyone else subsided, they all bid their temporary goodbyes to Harry, promising to meet again soon to celebrate two of their group, as Dobby took them all back home, one by one, eventually leaving Draco alone with Harry.

            “Mate, one last thing…” Draco said as Dobby disappeared with Neville.

            “Your father absolutely cannot know you’re doing this.” the green-eyed boy anticipated what his evidently worried friend had to say. “I know, and I will do my best to keep you safe. We _all_ will.” he put his hand on Draco’s shoulder and looked him straight in the eye, to make his statement come across more powerfully.

            “That and the fact that… if at any point it comes between choosing you or my father, I hope you know I’ve already been choosing my best friend since the day he became just that.” Draco said in an unusually quiet manner.

            Harry didn’t know how to reply, his friends always had a way of expressing their feelings that touched him deeply and left him with a strange desire to cry happy tears from their affection, so instead he pulled Draco into a tight hug, which the blond reciprocated. Dobby interrupted their affectionate moment, by popping in out of thin air and announcing that the blond had to go back to the manor, lest he be risking trouble for being out.

            And finally, Harry was alone again, this time his pang of longing for his wonderful group being even more pronounced because of their sudden get-together and because of Draco’s declaration of devotion and subsequent departure. He didn’t want them to leave, of course, in his opinion they could stay with him for as long as they wanted to, but aunt Petunia would have questions about the sudden appearance of four other kids in the middle of the night.

            And while he was alone after all, Harry could allow himself to think something very personal and somewhat selfish, that left him feeling guilty. As he climbed back into his bedroom just as Hedwig returned from her nightly hunt, and got back into bed, he thought of how he had come to care just a bit _more_ for Neville, Hannah, Draco and Hermione than he did for his family.

            The Dursleys were absolutely great and he very much loved them dearly, and he was grateful for their returned love and the fact that they took in a baby orphan and raised him as their own, and Dudley was the embodiment of everything good about a brother, but he still felt in his heart of hearts more affection for his friends. Perhaps it was because of their closeness during the year they spent at school and because they went through a lot together and it only bonded them further or perhaps it was the fact that they _got_ him, that they were wizards like him and understood more than his aunt and uncle and sometimes even his cousin ever could. All through his life, Harry felt a bit lonely, deep down knowing that he was _different_ and more recently, even more so, and when the truth came out after his seventh birthday, the feeling of isolation really sunk in, and back then McGonagall was the only other magical person he had known personally for almost four years, making him yearn for the day he would meet others like her, like _him_.  And when the day finally arrived and he was faced with these amazingly brilliant kids, just as he was, something inside of Harry finally clicked and he was… _home_.

            There was a voice inside of his mind, a voice that spread from the guilt and the shame of putting friends above family, saying that friendships are not always forever but family was, and he shouldn’t be thinking such things. But then he thought of how at the beginning, Hannah and Hermione would sometimes be at odds with each other over certain things, how everyone was distrustful of Draco and Draco distrustful of them, having an agenda, spying on Harry for his father, Neville being shy, trying to blend into the background and not trusting himself enough and him lashing out at Draco angrily for saying something out of turn.

            And now… Now Hannah and Hermione felt incredibly comfortable with each other to the point where physical contact was just something _inevitable_ to them, and they gave the vibe that they were forming a very close sisterhood, being the only two girls in their group, outnumbered by one by the boys (although Harry liked to think of himself as impartial, being ultimately the likely tie-breaker), Draco practically swore an oath of loyalty to them against his own family and Neville was evolving from child with a tonne of anxiety and fear of failure derived from a lifetime of borderline psychological battering into an actual _bad-ass_ Fire Elemental that breaks into the Restricted Section because he just wanted to help, and goes against the most powerful and dangerous Dark Lord in history at the age of eleven simply at the mere thought that his friend was in danger, and _actually standing his ground_ , and Harry just…

            They all somehow _fit_ together, crazy little misfits that met up in the dead of night to discuss plans to save everyone, chatted with each other non-stop and protected and loved one another fiercely over and over again.

            This made Harry realise that they weren’t just friends, they were _family_ as well, so that voice could shut the hell up. And he had a feeling they would grow closer still.

            Now all that was left was cluing them in on his newly discovered sexuality. At some point. When whatever Lucius Malfoy was planning wasn’t so much more important.

            A different voice sprung into his head, laughing at the boy for being so scared of practically nothing, that his friends were going to accept him no matter what, that going head first into dangerous situations with him was the absolute proof that they were there for him, that it was 2012 and Muggle Britain didn’t care that much and Wizarding Britain cared even less, because they have been letting anyone marry anyone for the past two centuries, as he discovered in his research, and that, really, who would dare give _him_ , Harrison James Potter, the bloody Boy-Who-Lived, grief for simply fancying boys exclusively and would also survive Hannah’s wrath upon them if he didn’t respond first and he was just plain ridiculous at this point.

            Harry groaned into his pillow.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND WE'RE OFF!  
> And what a way to kick off Pride Month with Harry coming out to Dudley and having such a sweet moment between them that is only of acceptance.  
> In this spirit, I want to take a moment to say that I hope for everyone that is planning to come out that they will find only love and acceptance. For those that want to, but cannot, because they can't yet, or that they feel they would be rejected or that it isn't safe for them, know that you are still loved, still valid and still important. Surround yourselves with people that you can trust and that will care for you, because if J.K. taught us anything is that love is the most powerful bit of magic and that no one deserves to live in the closet. And for those especially in parts of the world that it's dangerous to come out to the point where your life is at risk, I don't know if you will ever stumble upon this tiny corner of the internet where I make fanfiction about Harry Potter and read what I'm saying, but know that I believe in you, I support you wholly and while I am not a very religious person, I keep you in my personal thoughts and hope that you will find a way to live your life free. Every single one of you, every single member of the LGBTQIA+ community is amazing and incredible and I want only the best for all of you. For all of us. I myself am not in the worst part of the world to be gay, but still a very long way off to be one of the best. I love you all.  
> That being said, I never intended to time Harry's coming out with Pride Month, so a happy accident (via being lazy and/or busy). So we find out that something wicked this way comes because Lucius Malfoy never quits being an arsehole and Harry comes to grips with his new-found connections and what they mean. This year will certainly be interesting, as more and more key-characters come into play. This was mostly an exposition chapter, meant to set up the rest of the second book, but I promise more fun to come. Till next time!


	15. The Great Pretender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry meets the new Defence teacher and the enemy gains a face. And while Hogwarts is the same as ever, with a few minor changes, Lucius' plans are still unknown to him. And someone else makes their presence known...

            “Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you?” aunt Petunia asked from the passenger’s seat for what seemed the hundredth time that day as the Dursleys were in the family car, stuck in the absolute nightmare of traffic that was currently Brompton Road. Harry suddenly regretted not sneaking out to take the train for two stops and the hop down the Tube until Charing Cross Road, but his uncle wouldn’t let him go out on his own.

            “I’ll be fine, the Grangers will be there and you have to get Dudley _his_ school supplies and we’re not wasting the entire day for my sake.” the boy sighed for what also seemed like the hundredth time. He wished Hagrid could come, at least then his relatives might be less worried about his safety, but the giant man had a busy schedule lately and this was the one time Harry and his friends managed to sync their shopping together. Barring the occasional nightly visit and the birthdays party back at the end of July, hosted in Hermione’s backyard, they didn’t have a chance to just relax and spend some time together without throwing around a bunch of privacy spells and Apparating with Dobby under the Invisibility Cloak.

            “Still, I would feel better if you had someone there to protect you in case…” Petunia mentioned absentmindedly. Harry didn’t choose to reply at this time, because she couldn’t know that her nephew was an exceptionally powerful and capable wizard and could probably take care of himself. But that didn’t stop Dudley, however.

            “Protect him from _what_?” his cousin stopped the music from his iPod and questioned his parents. Vernon and Petunia exchanged a fleeting look, as Harry caught Vernon’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. “Who would want to harm Harry, of all people?” he added when he saw that nothing was being said by the other occupants of the car.

            And that’s when Harry realised that Dudley _had no idea_ about just what his cousin represented in the wizarding world and how he still had enemies.

            “From all my adoring fans, Dudley!” Harry added with false superiority. “Haven’t you heard? I am a celebrity! I could sign something for you, aunt Petunia do you have a pen…?” he continued his charade.

            “Yeah, yeah, famous Harry Potter, can’t even enter a wizard bookshop without making the front page!” Dudley laughed at him and resumed his music.

            Harry caught the sigh of relief and gratitude from his uncle, who then looked for a second in the mirror directly into Harry’s eyes. _Not yet_ was the message exchanged between them and the boy understood. He didn’t have a choice in what was his life so he had to know, but Dudley was mostly an innocent child still. Harry couldn’t rob him of that and tell the absolute truth, that he was a target for many people and especially for a maniacal killer that was still at large.

            “We’re nearly here, try to drop me by that Barclays.” Harry said ten minutes later and pointed to the front where said store was located.

            “That’s where it is?” Dudley asked out of a sudden. “In a bank, next to a bus stop?” he continued, unimpressed.

            “No, it’s on the other side, on that corner building.” Harry chuckled, as Vernon stopped the car in the empty taxy lane, and then the boy pointed in the right direction, where he could see the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron and someone in robes entering with a jumpy child on their arms. “See where that man and that blonde girl entered just now?”

            “No?” came the response from all three at the same time.

            “What does it look like to you?” Harry suddenly remembered to ask, because he felt curious.

            “A burger shop called Byron.” uncle Vernon said. “But it looks like it’s been closed for quite some time. You know, I sometimes go on Charing Cross when I have field duty at work, but I never seen this restaurant before.” he contemplated, turning to look at Harry as the boy reached for his bag with his laptop, water, umbrella and wallet from the trunk.   

            “That’s because you’re looking at it directly so just now you’re noticing it. So, just remember, Leaky Cauldron, 24 Charing Cross Road, London.” Harry replied jovially. “I’ll see you all later. And don’t freak out if I disappear from view when I get next to it, it’s supposed to do that.” he remembered to add, lest aunt Petunia suffer a stroke. “Bye, guys!” he said without giving them time to properly reply and promptly dove out the car.

            Harry @Scarheads: _Nearly there._

            The boy entered the dimly lit pub, greeted Tom the barkeep, making sure to speed up his pace in case any of the patrons were inclined to greet him, went out the back and tapped a brick at random with his finger, channelling his magic.

            Diagon Alley was especially busy today, as the closer the school year got, the more parents realised they had to make their yearly trip down the shops for supplies. The grey skies didn’t deter Harry as he made his way to Florean’s ice cream parlour.

            Florean was a jovial man in his early forties and every one of his customers thought he was a delight. It helped that his product was simply delicious and presented artfully and he had the strange ability to whip out a bucket load of ice-cream from… _somewhere_. Harry suspected someone back in the kitchen heard the order with a mic on Florean and made the order, while the man just called it with magic.

            “What would it be, lad?” asked a man dressed in kakis, a sweater and a vest, sporting a bead and wavy hair that covered his ears. Harry, who had just sat down and took out his laptop, assumed this was Florean Fortescue himself. And this was the crazy thing about the place, you could order any single type of ice cream in existence or you could make it up on the spot and Florean would _still_ promptly present it to you.

            “How about a brownie with peanut butter, chocolate syrup and vanilla ice cream?” Harry asked.

            “Coming right up!” Florean chuckled and produced a mason jar containing Harry’s order from his back, with the spoon in it, even. “Enjoy!”

            “Oh, how much for it?” Harry remembered _things_ _cost money_ as he reached for his wallet.

            “Nah, it’s on the house, mister Potter.” Florean waved him off with a smile and wow, Harry hadn’t expected that.

            “At least let me use my publicity to market your business, mister Fortescue.” Harry said, waving his phone. “A tag on Quickpic should do it. It’s the least I can do.” he added as humbly as he could sound in that moment.

            “By all means, promote me!” Florean laughed out loud, quite happy at the prospect. “And call me Florean, Harry. Mister Fortescue makes me sound very old.” he added with a wink.

            “ _Mon ami_!” came a sound from the kitchen, before a man, mid-thirties by the look of it, with a goatee and a chef’s outfit came in view. “I need your help with something.” he spoke to the owner in a French accent.

            “A husband’s work is never done.” he laughed complicit like towards Harry, who couldn’t help but chuckle himself. “Coming, Alain!” he added to the chef, leaving Harry to take the picture and post it on Quickpic and Hooting.

            It was some time later, while eating the most delicious ice cream ever made and fumbling around on his laptop, when Harry was surprised by the sudden appearance of Hannah at his table.

            “Hiya!” she said in a normal tone and sat down to the newly appeared chair. “Been here long? I’m so sorry, father wanted me to try on new robes and then explicitly wanted to come with me to the Apothecary to replenish my Potions ingredients and I just barely got rid of him while he’s at Gringotts, dealing with goblins over whatever nonsense, and he would’ve dragged me along with him had I not put my foot down and said I need to go to the pharmacy for some tampons right away.” she continued in one breath, her normal tone escalating into a highly frustrated one, groaning and rolling her eyes.

            Harry, who still had the spoon in his mouth, stared at her and swallowed slowly.

            “Hi, Hannah.” he added, putting the spoon back in the mason jar.

            “I did it again, didn’t I?” the girl replied with an embarrassed smile, putting one hand behind the backrest.

            “Oh, yeah.” Harry laughed, and faced her fully.

            “Why don’t you guys stop me?” she sighed, whining and throwing her head back.

            “Because it’s funny as hell?” came the response from the boy.

            “Funny you.” Hannah pushed him with her finger. “Anybody else here, or is it just us?” she looked around.

            “Still on their way. Do you want anything? My treat.” Harry added, scrolling on social media on his laptop.

            “Hell, as long as you’re paying…” Hannah shrugged nonchalantly.

            “Go crazy.” Harry chuckled as Florean approached and took Hannah’s immensely complicated order and this time couldn’t placate Harry, who already had his card out.

            “Enjoy your date!” the man added as he placed the banana split covered in a mountain of chocolate and two fizzy drinks on the table.

            “Yeah, no!” Hannah and Harry laughed before they could stop themselves after sharing one look of disbelief.

            “Okay, then enjoy your gathering or whatever it is you kids call it today.” Florean waved them off and went to another table of customers.

            “As if I we would date each other.” Hannah laughed into her dessert.

            “You’re a very beautiful girl, Han…” Harry started.

            “Aww, thank you!” she smiled happily at her friend and tilted her head.

            “But unfortunately, you’re not exactly my type.” he added with a shrug, but realised this was going into dangerous territory.

            “Ditto. I mean, you’re nice and all…”

            “Gee, thanks.” Harry added with feigned outrage, which earned him another playful shove. “Have you got a hold of Draco, by any chance?” he remembered.

            “Why, you want to ask _him_ on a date?” the blonde joked and Harry hoped it didn’t show on his face that at least she got the gender right and instead mocked laughed at her before replying.

            “No, genius, I wanted to talk to him about… _the thing_ … and he might be with his family right now and you know they don’t like it when he uses Muggle technology in front of them.”

            “Yeah, I really didn’t get why he got one in the first place if they aren’t okay with it.” Hannah replied.

            “Because I bought them myself, Abbott.” came a drawled-out voice to Harry’s right. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Go figure. Draco sat down next to Harry with a tired huff and rearranged a non-existent rebel strand of hair back into his perfectly gelled coiffure. “I just said that so people won’t question it. Didn’t I tell you?” he scrunched his face, trying to think back.

            “Uh, no?!” Hannah almost screeched. “Do you realise that if anyone were to tell them…?”

            “Would you relax, blimey!” Draco was taken aback. “No one is going to talk to them because half the students in the Slytherin dorm who do have devices are in the same situation.”

            “And the ones that don’t have and don’t agree with them know better than to tell on you, because no matter what, your father is still powerful and influential enough that they’re scared of him.” Harry sighed with realisation.

            “And Slytherins don’t suffer betrayal.” Draco pointed out. “For less than a major gain, that is. And if I go down, everyone else still hiding their devices goes down and no one wants an angry mob on their heads.” he continued as he took a sip of Harry’s drink.

            “Still can’t believe you didn’t tell us. Slytherin ancestry I can understand, but this was nice to know before.” Hannah complained.

            “It’s not like I deliberately kept _this_ from you, I literally just forgot that I didn’t tell you and assumed that I did.” Draco groaned impertinently.

            “Old age and all that.” Harry remarked sarcastically, finishing his ice cream.

            “Har-har.” Draco deadpanned. “Longbottom said his grandmother won’t let him out of her sights, by the way, so he won’t be here. Met with him while robes shopping.”

            “Crap.” Harry looked at the sky and sighed deeply while Hannah silently asked Draco if he wanted the rest of her ice cream. “She is _really_ starting to irritate me. I don’t know if Neville told you this, but his family kept trying to force him to do magic all of his life and they’re generally very conservative and _harsh_ with him.”

            “Remember how he was when we first met?” Hannah agreed with him. “And I’ve met Augusta Longbottom countless times, trust me, she is not a nice lady, but she _is_ his family.”

            “So are _we_ , Abbott.” Draco countered her argument, and for once, Hannah was speechless for a moment. As was Harry.

            “That was weird.” Hannah said, staring at the blond boy. “I actually felt affection and respect to Draco Malfoy just now.”

            “You get used to it.” Harry smiled and patted Draco’s shoulder.

            “Keep in mind that _my_ immediate family is bad, just because you’re related to someone doesn’t automatically mean that they are nice to you.” Draco contemplated while he dug the spoon in Hannah’s bowl.

            “It should, though.” Harry said more to himself. “We should all deserve to have people in our lives that love and respect us and not just raise us towards an idea that they have in their head that we should be.”

            “Again, my previous point exactly.” Draco reiterated. “At some point his grandmother will have to realise that Longbottom is becoming his own person and that holding him up to the standard of his father will not do him any good.” but that last sentence only earned him two very confused stares. “Oh, come on.” Draco huffed in surprise. “You both know that Frank Longbottom was an Auror, think about how that affects Longbottom every day, with his crone of a grandmother wanting for him to be the same.”

            “To be fair, he _did_ end up fighting the Dark Lord a few months ago.” Hannah made a face.

            “That’s different, he did that for Potter, for all of us, because he wanted to, not because he wanted Augusta Longbottom to be proud of him.” Draco shook his head. “Trust me, I know all about bad parental influence.”

            And with that they stayed in silence as Draco finished Hannah’s order, the quiet only being broken by an erratic Hermione arriving a few minutes later with her parents in tow. The Grangers were exactly like Harry pictured them, a couple of normal people that had no idea how to deal with the sheer storm that was their daughter.

            “Hi!” Hermione greeted her friends, almost jumping up and down. “Guys, these are my parents, Dan and Caitlyn Granger!” she gestured towards them. “Mom, dad, these are Draco, Harry and Hannah!” the girl quickly made the introductions.

            “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Granger.” Draco charmingly shook each of their hands, easing some of their nervousness around the group.

            They were an excited bunch, as this was their first time in Diagon Alley. Last year, McGonagall took Hermione through her first school supply shopping spree, now they had the pleasure of accompanying their daughter themselves.

            The group then walked to Flourish and Blotts, as planned in case they couldn’t meet up all at once. Neville was supposed to be at that time at the store and Draco had to at least pretend to buy the books for appearances.

            “Have you guys _seen_ the book list for this year?” Harry remembered as they walked down the Alley, taking out his phone to open the mass email McGonagall sent to the second-years.

            “Wait, don’t tell me, they asked for half the library.” Draco huffed sarcastically, which made everyone turn to look at him. “What?” he asked, suddenly confused. “Why is everyone looking at me like that?”

            “You mean you didn’t open anything McGonagall sent you?” Hermione gasped, like it was the end of the world.

            “Relax, Merlin, it’s not like they’re asking for new equipment yet, just books _I can buy electronically_! Draco raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes. “Honestly, what’s with you and following protocol to the letter?”

            “It’s not…” Hermione bristled, but then groaned and motioned for Harry. “Would you?” she continued exasperatedly, while Harry dutifully complied and gave Draco his phone. On the screen was the email from the Transfigurations teacher, which stated:

_From: minervamcgonagall@hogwarts.co.uk       Sent: 1 st of August 2012, 10:00 AM_

_Cc: vdursley@gmail.com, petunia_dursley@gmail.com_

_To: hjpotter@hogwarts.co.uk_

_Subject: Year 2 Supply List_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

  _Below you will find your necessary material for your second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. All previous material is required for this year’s courses, with the exceptions noted down, which replace the previous material as the main curriculum for the subject written in parentheses. Please remember that you are expected to board the Hogwarts Express on September 1 st of this year on Platform 9¾, located in 1, Kings Cross Station, Euston Rd, Kings Cross, London N1 9AL, UK._

_Students are reminded that they can always view their grades and scores on their student page on www.hogwarts.co.uk at any given time._

_Year 2 Books:_

  * _The Standard Book of Potions, Grade 2 by Arianne Vaux (Potions)_
  * _A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration, Vol. 2 by Emeric Switch (Transfigurations)_
  * _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk (Charms)_
  * _Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart (Defence Against the Dark Arts)_
  * _Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart (Defence Against the Dark Arts)_
  * _Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart (Defence Against the Dark Arts)_
  * _Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart (Defence Against the Dark Arts)_
  * _Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart (Defence Against the Dark Arts)_
  * _Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart (Defence Against the Dark Arts)_
  * _Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart (Defence Against the Dark Arts)_



_Signed,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Transfiguration Teacher_

_Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

            “Wow, Snape upgraded the textbook for second years? That’s new.” Draco made a face after a minute.

            “ _That’s_ what you get out of this thing?” Hannah cuffed him lightly on the back of the head, making Harry chuckle as a frowning Draco returned the phone in his hands back to the owner.

            “I gather that the very important matter at hand is the number of books written by Gilderoy Lockhart required for Defence Against the Dark Arts is what’s causing your current distress?” Draco verbalised his irritation with an air of superiority, not pausing for breath.

            “No, it’s the Standard Book of Spells. Yes, of course it’s the number of Lockhart books!” Hannah started with dripping sarcasm and ended with desperation, barely managing to contain herself enough that the Grangers wouldn’t hear her. But the dentists were too enthralled with the magical street, so they would pose no problem.

            “So? The new teacher must be a big fan of his, what’s with the fire alarm?” Draco shrugged.

            “She means it’s all of the man’s written work so far.” Harry sighed softly with a smile. “This is not just any big fan, this is an absolute fanatic.” he continued calmly.

            “And what’s wrong with being a fan of Lockhart, I might ask?” Hermione interjected, fully offended for some reason that escaped the other three.

            “Have you _read_ his work?” Harry went fully on the defensive, because an angry Hermione was scary and not to be ignored.

            “Have _you_?” she countered in a dangerous tone.

            “I have… _perused_ them.” Harry admitted. “And I’m sorry, but he’s just so… _full of himself_!”

            “Harry, how can you say that?” Hermione gasped. “The man’s a genius and an excellent wizard, he’s allowed to be a bit _eccentric_ if he wants to! And who are you to judge?” she continued, obviously on a roll, but Harry was not to be deterred either.

            “The most famous wizard of the decade in Britain and fourth most famous in the wizarding world on a global scale?” the green-eyed boy answered simply.

            “Wait, _fourth_? I thought you were third last year.” Hannah interrupted them.

            “Gaga has more fans than I do, so she surpassed me.” Harry shrugged. “And at least when I retell what I’ve done I don’t do it in a way that makes me shine like the sun and every other sentence is meant to praise myself entirely.” he continued to Hermione.

            “And at least you don’t line up people for autographs.” Draco chuckled as they reached their destination.

            Indeed, Flourish and Blotts was unusually crowded today, and even that was an understatement in itself; the shop was practically overflowing with witches and the occasional bright-eyed, young wizard, all clamouring to get inside, because on this very day, the famous author Gilderoy Lockhart decided to do a book signing, according to all the pictures and signs hung and plastered on any and all available surfaces.

            “Oh, dear, how are we going to get inside?” Mrs. Granger snapped out of her daze.

            “Just follow the line and keep moving.” Harry motioned them to follow him, as he snuck past a few witches that were so caught up in their day-dreaming they didn’t even notice him.

            It took a few minutes, but they managed to get inside, just as the man himself was preparing to make a speech. He was exactly like Harry saw him in the pictures, the tens of thousands posted online, with the same blond curls and somewhat handsome face, but all of his beautiful features went out the window for Harry because of the air surrounding the man, over-confidence and something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

            The place was absolutely _packed_ with witches and wizards of all ages, all clamouring on top of one another to get closer to the man. The security detail was having trouble with the very little space and the sheer volume of people that were trying to get just that much closer to Lockhart. Somewhere deep-down Harry was thankful that for once he wasn’t the centre of attention and that he wasn’t old enough to attract so many people. Draco lightly elbowed him then pointed with his chin somewhere to their right, across the many bookshelves and through a gap in the crowd. The boy could see the owner of Flourish and Blotts, wiping his face in frustration and Harry could empathise.

            Still, he had hoped that what Draco wanted him to see was Neville, as the last of their group was nowhere in sight and they had picked a rather poor spot for a meeting.

            “Any sign of him?” Hermione peered over their heads in vain.

            “No… Where in blazes could he- _Hey_!” Hannah started but was interrupted by a small man with a beard that was practically swimming through the crowd.

            “Excuse me, miss, this _is_ for the Daily Prophet, you know!” the photographer shoved Hannah rather rudely.

            “Touch me again and I’ll shove that camera right up your ha- “the blonde started _alarmingly_ loud and dangerous before Hermione grabbed her by the shoulder before she went and ripped the man to shreds.

            “Hannah!” the other girl gritted through her teeth as several bystanders were starting to stare. “Why don’t we calm down?” she pointed with her eyes to the crowd.

            Harry was thoroughly amused with the whole situation, which in retrospect had to be some indication on what to follow, because it never pays to laugh at your friend’s misfortune. Lockhart was being photographed for less than ten seconds before his eyes locked with Harry’s _somehow_ and then made a face.

            “It can’t be… _Harry Potter_!” he intoned with a sense of awe.

            ‘ _Shit_ ’. Harry thought immediately as the reporter went into overdrive, trying to scan the direction of Lockhart’s gaze and the crowd slowly realised there was another celebrity in their mix and gave him a wide berth. The Daily Prophet man made a motion to grab Harry by the arm, _as if that was allowed for some reason_ , but the boy was quicker and dodged his attempt. He knew what was expected of him in this instant, so he went next to Lockhart as the reporter gathered his wits about him and quickly set up his camera back. He didn’t escape Lockhart’s grip on his shoulder, however, but never let it be said that Harry wasn’t adaptive.

            “Big smiles, Harry, we are going to be on the front page!” Lockhart chuckled and gave his by now robotic smile that was supposed to be _charming_ , so Harry did his best to smile and bear with it.

            ‘ _Dudley will have a field day with this. I swear, what is it with him and slightly prophetic predictions?’_

            “When young Harry came into this bookshop today, hoping to buy a copy of my biography _Magical Me_ ,” Lockhart started to speak to the crowd who went silent as a grave, only breaking it for applause whenever the man paused strategically “which is currently enjoying its twenty-seventh week as the number one best seller on the Daily Prophet’s list… He had no _idea_ that he would be going home with my _entire_ collection… Free of charge.” the man declared to the adoring crowd as some aide produced a tower of books in front of him, which he then passed on to a stunned Harry as the photographer shot another series of pics.

            “T-thank you, mister Lockhart, I appreciate it, but you didn’t have to…” Harry found his voice as he shook the man’s hand, but he was just waved off.

            “Oh, so _modest_! Nonsense! It is a gift for my newest protégé!” he continued which gave everyone, more so Harry, a confusing pause. “That’s right folks, starting this September I will be taking over the Defence Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!” which, no, was definitely a real thing that Harry heard with his own two functioning ears.

            “Pleasure meeting you, _Professor_ Lockhart. Looking forward to be in your class.” Harry had the dignity to at least announce his departure as the man returned the sentiment and scooted him over so that the remaining populace could get their books signed.

            Harry grabbed his books and tried to make a beeline for the door, muttering his displeasure to himself before he had to face Hannah and Draco laughing at him. Unfortunately, he nearly knocked someone over in his race for the exit. A girl, no more than eleven, with big brown eyes and long red hair, freckles all over her nose and cheekbones, carrying a small pewter cauldron with an old book inside of it, nearly fell backwards because of him.

            “Oh, I’m so sorry!” Harry immediately exclaimed and used his hand to catch the girl before she fell over and his powers to stabilise the stack of books on the other.

            “It’s fine, I should’ve watched where… I…” she started with a shy tone but as soon as she looked at Harry she lost her voice completely. “You’re…” she gasped.

            “Uglier in person? It’s alright, I know I am, that’s why I use filters on Quickpic, so that people will think I’m prettier.” Harry joked, hoping to avoid a star-struck moment with the girl he nearly ran over.

            “I don’t have Quickpic.” she said in lieu of a real answer, still boring her eyes into Harry’s forehead.

            “It was a joke, miss…?” Harry laughed, reminding himself to hold the stack with two hands and let go of her.

            “Weasley. Ginny Weasley.” she shook her head of her daze.

            “You’re Ronald’s sister?” Harry spoke out of turn, making a connection.

            “You _know_ Ron?” she gaped like Harry just told her Vader was Luke’s father.

            “Well, I’ve seen him a couple of times around the school. Snape hates his potions, by the way.”

            “You’re funny.” Ginny laughed wholeheartedly.

            “Thank you, I do try.” Harry waved her off with false superiority.

            “Bet you _loved_ that, didn’t you! _Famous_ Harry Potter, can’t even enter a _bookshop_ without making the front page!” came a drawled-out voice from behind Harry as Draco emerged from the crowd with Hermione and Hannah in tow. But before Harry could reply that it wasn’t the first time he heard that one today, Ginny Weasley, in a stunningly brave manner, stepped right between them in an instant with a look of furious determination plastered on her face.

            “Leave him alone!” she gritted through her teeth.

            “Oh look, you’ve got yourself a girlfriend too!” Draco joked earnestly, but it seemed Ginny didn’t quite get that the blond was simply laughing with Harry instead of _at_ him.

            A sound of something pointy hitting hardwood floors came from behind and something in the air shifted as a shadow overcame Harry and Ginny. Draco’s expression changed from relaxed and fun to scared and solemn at once in the very next nanosecond. Hannah drew in a breath and Hermione’s mouth dropped ever so slightly.

            “Now, now, Draco, play nicely.” a man’s voice floated in the air. It sounded almost _exactly_ like Harry pictured it, like Draco’s, only much older, much more confident and composed and with the smallest hint of malcontent.

            Lucius Malfoy stood tall and proud in the doorway, with his silver serpent cane in his hand, elegant clothes making the environment seem even more dusty and shabby than before, long blond hair draped neatly on his back. He had every single feature of Draco, except, ironically, Harry noted, his eyes, which he assumed Draco inherited from Narcissa. But it was definitely strange to realise that Harry wasn’t the only one who was a carbon copy of one of his parents and at least his father wasn’t a murderous fascist.

            “Mister Potter.” Lucius continued in the same tone as before, extending a hand towards Harry. “Lucius Malfoy. We finally meet.”

            “Pleasure.” Harry remembered to swallow and act natural and shake his hand.

            “Likewise. Forgive me…” Lucius replied before tugging Harry closer to him before the boy could do anything and used the cane to remove whatever stray hairs were covering the right side of the boy’s forehead. “Your scar is legend.” Lucius maintained his iron grip and Harry was two seconds away from rendering Draco fatherless, friendship be damned. “As, of course, is the wizard who gave it to you.” he smiled falsely.

            “Voldemort killed my parents.” Harry opted for the same psychological warfare Malfoy was trying on him, which made the man instantly let go of him in slight fear. “There is nothing legendary about that. He is nothing more than a murderer.” he added with conviction.

            “You’re very brave to speak his name.” Lucius added with a blink. “Or very foolish, indeed.” he chuckled darkly.

            “Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself.” Hermione stared Malfoy down and spoke before Draco could stop her from doing something stupid.

            “And you must be… miss Granger.” Lucius added after a thought. “Yes, Draco told me _all_ about you.” he smiled sardonically. “And your parents. _Muggles_ , aren’t they?” he said not with outright disdain, but more like it was a joke beneath him to even say such a term, pointing with his look at the Grangers who were engaged in a very lively discussion with a man in a green pointy hat and red curls at the temples. “Let’s see… red hair…” Lucius turned his attention to _Ginny_ of all people. “Vacant expression…” he continued as he reached into the girl’s cauldron and took out the single book inside. “Tacky _second-hand_ book… You must be a Weasley.” he drawled out mockingly at the young girl, who felt ashamed for existing in that moment and Harry was about to punch him before someone else joined their little gathering.

            “Ginny, it’s madness in here, let’s…” the man in the green pointy hat appeared next to the girl.

            “Well, well, Weasley Senior.” Lucius tutted, before mister Weasley turned his face from his daughter towards him, changing expressions immediately to one of disdain.

            “Lucius.” he simply added.

            “Busy time at the Ministry, Arthur? All those raids… I do hope they’re paying you overtime. Although judging by the state of _this_ …” he said, showcasing Ginny’s tattered book for everyone to see. “It seems not. What’s the use of being a _disgrace_ to the name of a wizard, if they don’t even pay you well enough for it?” Lucius went from mocking to dangerous threatening and back to disdain in a matter of a sentence and everyone else figured this scene was no longer meant for them to witness.

            “We have very different views on what it means to be a disgrace to wizardkind, _Malfoy_.” Arthur Weasley responded firmly.

            “Clearly.” Lucius tutted and placed back the book in Ginny’s cauldron with a thud. “ _Associating_ with Muggles… And I thought your family could sink no lower.” he went right up in mister Weasleys face and probably wanted to say or do something even nastier, judging by his reaction to mister Weasley not taking the bait to his hateful words. A look towards Harry, however, stopped him, as he realised where he was. “I’ll see you at work.” he ended the conversation and made a gesture towards Draco, who had no choice but to follow suite, and they both exited the shop in less than two seconds.

            “Here, Ginny…” Harry said, breaking the silence that followed by placing the stack of books from Lockhart in her cauldron. “Take them as a ‘Sorry for nearly crashing into you’ from earlier. I have to go.” he declared to the surprise of both Ginny and mister Weasley. “I’ll see you around school, yeah?” he said instead of goodbye and motioned for both Hannah and Hermione to follow him.

            “What the bloody hell was that about?” Hannah asked once they were in a secluded spot on the side streets near Flourish and Blotts.

            “Male posturing, is what that bullshit was!” Harry fumed. “The absolute _nerve_ of him, coming for an eleven-year-old like that, like it’s her personal fault her family doesn’t have the best financial status!”

            “He’s absolutely _horrifying_.” Hermione agreed. “And did you notice that…?”

            “He looks _a lot_ like Draco?” Harry continued her thought. “Yeah, imagine how he feels, fearing he will turn up like that, with that _ridiculous_ Pantene commercial hair” he paced.

            “I actually meant that he took a rather _bizarre_ interest in that girl’s book…”

            “Ginny.” Harry supplied automatically.

            “It was just a ploy to get under her skin.” Hannah shrugged.

            “Maybe, but maybe…” but what Hermione had to say would have to wait, as their phones pinged at the same time.

            “Crap. Neville was taken home by his grandmother, says she didn’t have the patience for waiting in line at the bookshop.” Hannah sighed, reading the text message.

            “Bollocks…” Harry swore. “This day just keeps getting better and better! First Neville goes AWOL because of his grandma and now Draco is sequestered to his father’s side for the remainder of the day.” he rubbed his temples.

            “And I’m with my parents and Hannah is with her dad.” Hermione tutted.

            “Who’s expecting me shortly. Oh, joy.” Hannah groaned. “Why didn’t we come alone? They let us last year practically on our own inside a giant castle in the middle of nowhere.” she complained.

            “We were technically under constant supervision.” Harry had no choice but to play devil’s advocate. “ _Technically._ ” he stressed out after a thought and the girls agreed with him. “Listen, we might just have to call it a day. I’ll head out to do my shopping and then I’ll head home. You should all do the same.”

            “You sure?” Hermione rubbed his arm in pity.

            “Yes. We’ll see each other in two weeks and then we’ll be with one another every day.” Harry declared. “Stay safe you two!” he kissed both of them on their cheeks.

            “Same goes for you!” they yelled at his retreating back.

            And to think, the day started quite nicely, and Harry was very excited to finally gather all of his friends in one place without sneaking about, but it seemed fate had very different plans for them at the moment. He hated this, not being able to go anywhere without someone holding his hand. It was a very tricky situation, being on the cusp of adolescence, wanting more independence and responsibility, but the people around couldn’t even fathom such a concept. Like aunt Petunia, for example, who was so _worried_ that no one would be there to supervise him, like he was five years old and incapable of taking care of himself.

            He, for one, could be able to take care of himself, mostly thanks to his powers, and his friends weren’t something to be laughed at either. So her attitude, while understandable for someone like Dudley, who was a smart lad but still a defenceless child, rubbed Harry the wrong way. A voice inside of him pointed out that this was in part because he didn’t tell her or uncle Vernon what exactly he had been up to the past year, doing things no adult wizard could ever do. But he reminded himself that it was because of their very reaction to leaving Harry alone that he couldn’t tell them, because they would take it the wrong way and try to intervene and Harry wasn’t about to let that happen. He loved them, truly, but if it was between them and going back to school…

            He truly wished that he was much older in those moments. Old enough to skip the awkward pubescent phase, where all of his body was changing, were everything and anything was weird and intense and just arrive in that place where he could be confident and in charge of himself and be taken more seriously. People like Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy underestimated him severely only because of his age. And while Lucius hasn’t met his payback from Harry, Voldemort already had. Twice.

 

            It was the sight of the purple engine train that _finally_ calmed Harry down, two weeks later on Platform 9¾, after hurryingly saying goodbye to his family and running through the wall like a bullet out of a gun. He arrived rather early, as there were only scattered groups of people around the place. He caught sight of Ron Weasley with a plump older woman, his three older brothers and Ginny, who was watching the train intently, jumping in place with overexcitement. He couldn’t blame her, he supposed.

            “Hey there, Ginny. Nice to see you again.” he smiled at her as he approached the group, who was stunned to see him, apparently. “Ronald, you too.” he added, but the read-head just swallowed and nodded. “I’m Harry, I met your sister a while ago in Flourish and Blotts when I nearly knocked her back by accident.” the boy extended a hand toward the woman with the same red hair as the others.

            “ _Oh_ , you flatterer!” the woman went red and took his hand with both palms and shook it, but Harry just looked confused at a snickering Ginny. “No dear, I’m their mother. Molly Weasley, _absolutely_ delighted to meet you, Harry!”

            “Likewise. Then these must be your other sons. We haven’t been properly introduced.” Harry tried to recover from his earlier shock.

            “Fred and George, twins, both in their fourth year. And this is Percy, Gryffindor Prefect and sixth year.” Molly showcased her sons, her voice going with pride for the last. Harry couldn’t tell Percy that he was already very familiar with him because he nearly collided with him in a dark hallway one night… Although he wasn’t so bad looking under those horned rimmed glasses and in proper lighting.

            “Delighted.” Harry replied politely.

            “Thank you again for the books, Harry.” Ginny remembered to say. “It was very thoughtful of you.”

            “Not really, considering that I got them for free.” Harry pretended to think for a second, but his smile showed that he was only being funny. Thankfully, Ginny had a sense of humour better than her older brother Ronald, who simply scowled at the boy. “But you’re welcome, anyway. Do you need any help with...?” he remembered, seeing the industrial sized trunks next to her.

            “Oh, no, Fred or George can…” the girl flustered but Harry would have none of it.

            “Nonsense. Which ones are…?” he looked at her and back at the trunks, and Ginny finally gave in and let Harry help her with her luggage on to the train.

            “So polite and well-spoken…” Harry could hear Mrs. Weasley behind him wax poetic about him.

            Once inside, Ginny selected her compartment and Harry used his powers to lift the trunks when she wasn’t looking directly. Well, they were heavy after all.

            “You know, if you were aiming for a good first impression with my mum, that was a good one.” Ginny laughed after they settled her in.

            “You joke, but I actually figured she was your older sister or something like that.” Harry replied honestly. “She looks so _young_ ; how does she do that? What’s her skin care routine?” he exploded with questions.

            “Well, it’s not the Elixir of Life, that much I can tell you.” Ginny joked.

            Harry snickered loudly before he could stop himself, earning a raised eyebrow and a strange look from the girl.

            “Oh, I… uh… kind of destroyed the Philosopher’ Stone three months ago.” Harry lied on a technicality.

            “What.” Ginny deadpanned, mouth to the floor.

            “Remind me to tell you about it sometimes.” Harry rubbed the back of his head and made for an exit. “Give my best to your family, yeah? I’ll see you at school. And good luck at the Sorting!” he said, already in the hallway, barely missing the small girl with wavy sandy hair in his path. And honestly, why couldn’t he collide with some dashing bloke instead of young girls all the time?

            He chose one of the last compartments on the train, the ones regular students had access to, because it was spacious enough for all five of them and texted everybody his whereabouts. It took less than a minute before they all poured in, one by one, in a flurry. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one early.

            “Uh… Morning?” he tried to say ten seconds after they came in and put their things in place without so much as casting a syllable at him.

            “Oh! Morning!” Hermione was the first to realise. “Sorry, it feels like we just talked less than ten minutes ago.”

            “That may be, but I haven’t seen _some_ of you in weeks.” he smiled at a beaming Neville, who wasted no time into grabbing him into a very tight hug that lasted a _bit_ longer than it should. “Hiya.” Harry chuckled when he retracted enough so that he could see his friend’s face.

            “Hi.” Neville replied in the same voice.

            “Ahem.” Draco interrupted them. “Do we need to leave you two alone, or…?” he gestured towards the rest of the occupants of the compartment.

            “Sorry.” Harry went red at the tips of the ears and promptly let go of Neville before sitting back down. “Any news?” he dropped his voice into a more serious tone.

            “Nothing beyond what I’ve already told you.” Draco sighed as he sat across from Harry, taking the other window seat available. “Besides the impromptu visit to Borgin and Burke’s during our shopping spree on Diagon Alley, nothing. It’s all been very quiet. Which…”

            “We think that whatever Lucius is planning may already be somehow in motion.” Hermione continued for her friend.

            “So, we’re going head first into a school that’s on the verge of being struck by an evil plan?” Hannah asked no one in particular.

            “Precisely. Only this time we’re going to be prepared.” Harry declared. “I have some ideas. In the meantime,” he continued, reaching for his bag and bringing out four different yellow envelopes, “I want you guys to upgrade your devices.”

            “How thin did phones _get_?” Hannah replied after inspecting the rather small objects Harry was now passing to everyone.

            “What? No, Hannah, it’s not the _Titan II_ device itself, it’s the hardware upgrade for it.” Harry explained, urging Neville to open his envelope. Inside were two metal connectors, an USB and a micro USB one, both with a small rectangular object of no meaningful description stuck on the top. “You plug it in your device and it upgrades to the model inside. It’s basically a hardware upgrade via software.”

            “How is that possible?” Hermione gasped and immediately went for her phone and plugged the micro USB cap. In the next second, her phone changed right before their eyes, shifting instantly into the model of _Titan II_ that was on display in _Wiztech_ stores.

            “You do know we’re wizards, right?” Harry whispered mockingly after looking around theatrically.

            “Oh, _haha_.” Hermione mocked right back. “I know _why_ it’s possible, but not the _how_.” she countered.

            “Basic Transfiguration transference wherein an object takes the exact proprieties of another, like a blueprint.” Hannah realised all of a sudden. “The plugs have the information of the newest model and it’s set to transfer that information magically when put in one of their devices.”

            “I’m actually speechless.” Draco breathed. “You out-Grangered _Granger_. Again.” and he was right, judging by Hermione’s expression.

            “Yeah, but I cheated this time.” Hannah laughed and showed everyone the Witchypedia article on her phone.

            “Still counts, you managed to research it before her.” Neville added thoughtfully.

            “I’m flattered that you all feel the need to do even better than I do when it comes to researching pertinent information.” Hermione pointed out. “But would this mean that anybody could do the spell and upgrade their phones without paying for it?” she raised a seemingly important question.   

            “Yeah, right!” Harry laughed. “They asked for every type of document I have on your devices to prove that I actually own them, because A: they don’t give this out if you don’t, and B: it needs the serial number of your device to connect and then the plug has a digital signature a mile long that’s downloaded from their servers, and only then does it change, because the device itself is spelled to reject any Transfiguration spell not accepted by their standards. And even if you manage to break _that_ , it voids the warranty and trust me when I tell you that they will _know_.”

            “What did you do?” Neville sighed deeply and looked accusatorily at Harry.

            “Tried to enhance the front camera to the level of the one on the back.” he muttered, looking out the window.

            “Was this why you needed my receipts and warranty of my phone and laptop?” Draco remembered to ask as he too upgraded all of his devices.

            “Told you to trust me.” Harry winked.

 

            The ride to Hogwarts was smooth and uneventful, and as the sun started to disappear behind clouds just before it started to set and the movies on Harry’s laptop suddenly turned boring, they all took turns to guess whatever Lucius’ plan was.

            “I bet it’s some sort of bomb.” Hannah said out of the blue, legs stretched out across Neville. “Inside the Chamber, I mean.”

            “Would kill absolutely everyone, including me, his pureblood son.” Draco replied with a bored tone.

            “Then maybe it’s a chemical bomb, designed to target Muggleborns.” she tried a second time.

            “I doubt Salazar Slytherin had any concept of bombs in his time.” Harry replied without looking from his Hooting feed.

            “The level of engineering required for such a thing would take decades to implement, not to mention the obvious paper trail back to Lucius. You would need DNA specialists, experts on magical cores, biochemists to design an agent specifically for a muggleborn, engineers to build the actual mechanism of dispersal…” Hemione counted on her fingers as Draco rested on her. “It would involve hundreds of people for such a project, and I doubt anybody besides Harry has the money to keep everyone quiet about it.”

            “Okay, so then maybe Salazar designed some poison meant for killing Muggleborns!” Hannah exclaimed.

            “Please, we all know it’s not something that clever.” Draco huffed dismissively.

            “Yeah, we’re used to overly complicated so we’re stuck trying to find the obvious solution. Like always.” Neville yawned.

            “We’re nearly there.” Harry looked out the window. “We should change.” he declared as the boys politely got up to let Hermione and Hannah get in their robes in privacy.

            “Also stop making your laptop float in front of the window, we’ll watch the rest of _The Dark Knight Rises_ later.” Hermione pointed out as she reached for her bag.

            “Ah, thank you, I forgot about that.” Harry blinked and made his laptop close itself and go in his seat.”

            “Wait, were you making it fly passively? As in, you weren’t putting up an effort?” Draco said as they closed the compartment door behind them.

            “I think so? I just made it float and it kind of stayed that way?” Harry shrugged?

            “Maybe you have a very long latency time for spells or you unconsciously supply more magic to an active spell effect as time goes by.” Neville crossed his arms and leaned sideways on the doorframe as the curtains were drawn inside by Harry with a flick of a hand.

            “Or both.” Harry leaned with his back to the wall to face him. “I still don’t know how any of the things I do are possible.” he admitted. “And it’s not an affinity for magic, because I could do things like that on a smaller scale before I bonded with my wand.”

            “Really?” Draco made a face. “You never told us that.”

            “I had many occasions of accidental magic that were perhaps a bit _strong_ in retrospect, like making Dudley’s toys fly away because he wouldn’t give them to me, or making my birthday cake on top the kitchen cabinet move closer to me,” Harry recounted his memories of using magic before he knew what that was, “or even the one time I managed to successfully Apparate in the cupboard under my stairs because I was losing in a game of hide-and-seek.”

            “YOU WHAT?!” Hermione shrilled and raised the curtains on the door, appearing to be very shocked and wearing nothing but her underwear and a bustier.

            “Could we _please_ have this conversation when you’re dressed and not flashing the student body of Hogwarts!” Harry groaned and made the curtain fall back to cover the girl and the other two boys yelped and looked away pointedly.

            “Oh, honestly, Harry, I’m in my underwear, not showing my bits.” Hermione’s muffled voice could be heard sighing.

            “Yeah, what’s the big deal? We can share deep dark secrets with each other and get in the crossfire to save one another, but seeing one of us in our undies is too much?” Hannah’s even more muffled complaining came from the curtain.

            “Fine, next time we’re somewhere more spacious and someone needs to change nobody has to leave!” Neville put a stop to all of the silly arguments rather firmly.

             

            The platform in Hogsmeade was packed with students, all walking orderly towards their destination. Hagrid could be seen at the end, a hulking mass of a man, practically blinding everyone with his bright flash. Harry spared a thought that it was intentional, to obscure the first-years’ vision and by the time their eyes recovered the castle was presented to them for the first time in real life.

            “Evening, Hagrid! Long time no see!” Harry greeted the giant man when he reached him.

            “Hiya, Harry! Had a good summer? Yeh behaved, I hope?” Hagrid replied with a smile, waving at the rest of the group.

            “So far… But the night _is_ young.” Harry added mysteriously.

            “Don’t yeh start! I know yeh and how yeh get into trouble. Now, off with yeh lot, to the carriages.” Hagrid laughed and sent them on their way to a side street where the older students were walking reflexively. “First years, gather round ‘ere!” Hagrid boomed as the gang went on their course.

            “What, no boat ride this year?” Hannah half breathed, half laughed. “Is the Giant Squid in a mood, or something?”

            “Well, since Draco killed it with his ice anchor back in spring, no, I don’t think the Giant Squid is in a mood, Han.” Harry replied airily, keeping a straight face.

            “I did _not_ kill the bloody Giant Squid, Potter…” Draco blew up instantly.

            “Debatable, no one’s seen it since.” Harry clicked his tongue as the others laughed quietly.

            “… And older students get to ride in the carriages.” the blond continued as if nothing happened, but his ears went red.

            In reality, Harry knew that the sea creature was perfectly fine, because he’d seen it swimming around a couple of times before leaving Hogwarts, but Draco didn’t need to know that. Arriving at the aforementioned carriages, Harry saw the older students getting inside their rides, which were pulled by some type of creature.

            If he had had to give them a name, he supposed he would have called them horses, though there was something reptilian about them, too. They were completely fleshless, their black coats clinging to their skeletons, of which every bone was visible. Their heads were dragonish, and their pupil-less eyes white and staring. Wings sprouted from each wither — vast, black leathery wings that looked as though they ought to belong to giant bats. Standing still and quiet in the gathering gloom, the creatures looked eerie and sinister.

            “What in the world…” Harry whispered in awe and trepidation equally.

            “Yes, Harry, self-driving carriages are a thing.” Hannah rolled her eyes when her friend stopped in his tracks.

            “What?!” Harry shouted in disbelief.

            “What do you mean, _what_?” Draco drawled out. “Like she said.” he gestured towards a confused Hannah.

            “Are you alright?” Hermione asked, concerned.

            “Is this a joke?” Harry blinked and made a face, frowning, but judging by the looks he was receiving, no, it wasn’t.

            “You can’t see them?” Neville asked and Harry whipped his head towards him so fast it might’ve hurt if he wasn’t otherwise preoccupied.

            The other three looked at each other, at the carriages, then back at the two boys, but their looks only added to the chaotic confusion.

            “They’re called Thestrals, you morons!” some Gryffindor seventh-year exclaimed at them as he walked by, without so much as casting them a glance as he made his way towards his friends, leaving behind five very frowny faces.

            “So, something _is_ pulling the carriages after all.” Draco was the first to gather his wits as they walked, albeit slower, towards their ride, selecting an empty one for themselves, with Harry and Neville sitting on one side and the others across from them.

            “Okay, found a link!” Hermione said, phone plastered in hand, before starting to read out loud: _A Thestral is a breed of winged horses with a skeletal body, face with reptilian features, and wide, leathery wings that resemble a bat's. They are very rare, and are considered dangerous by the Ministry of Magic. Thestrals are, undeservedly, known as omens of misfortune and aggression by many wizards because they are visible only to those who have witnessed death at least once or due to their somewhat grim, gaunt and ghostly appearance._

 _Due to Thestrals' classification as XXXX, only experienced wizards should try to handle Thestrals. Breeding as well as owning these beasts is discouraged without Ministry consent; in fact, wizards that live in areas not protected against Muggles are forced by law to perform Disillusionment Charms on their Thestrals regularly_.” she read as they set in motion towards the castle. “You can only see them if you saw someone die?” she made a face towards the others, locking her phone.

            “ _Oh_.” Hannah made a quiet realisation from her window seat and looked pointedly towards Harry and Neville, who took their sweet time to make the connection.

            “Oh, bloody hell, _Quirrell_?” Neville exclaimed in anger, for some reason. “ _That_ ’s why we can see them and you can’t?”

            “I feel weird about this.” Harry admitted, taking a peek through the window at the silent creatures, dutifully taking them up the road to the gates of Hogwarts.

            “Tell me about it – any and all real-life images of them, like pictures, videos, Pensive projections, show up as blank if you didn’t witness someone dying.” Hermione added, unable to resist investigating further. “Oh, look! An artist’s depiction!” she added with delight as Hannah and Draco rushed to see Hermione’s phone, but their excitement died on their faces.

            “Yeah, I don’t envy you two.” Hannah shook her head and sat back down.

            “Why am I surprised, when you can only see them once you see someone kick the bucket?” Draco said in apparent disgust.

            “Or turn into literal ashes.” Harry muttered.

 

            It was a welcome change of pace when the giant iron gates were upon them and so was the ever-familiar courtyard, some time later, as the five made their way with the other students towards the Great Hall, accompanied by Professor Flitwick.

            The feeling of nostalgia and of happiness surrounded Harry fully, terrible plots or death horses be damned, he was where he was meant to be, _finally_ , with all of his friends, together. His smile hurt his face, but it wouldn’t go down.

            It felt too quick when they walked the corridors towards the Hall for the Sorting Ceremony, because Harry remembered that they would be separated by the House tables for the evening.

            ‘ _Tomorrow.’_ he said to himself. ‘ _Tomorrow it starts feeling like normal._ ’

            Harry and Draco stood somewhere at the middle of the Slytherin table, and while Draco socialised with their House mates, Harry mostly kept to himself, posting or just browsing social media, occasionally sending something funny in their group chat. He swore he heard Hannah laugh, even across the room.

            The Head Table was as per usual, with the aging Dumbledore in outlandishly coloured robes, McGonagall by his side, Snape staring at some invisible dot in the air, Sprout talking with Sinistra about something quite enthusiastically, which turned out to be Gilderoy Lockhart, who was two seats down, next to Remus. Harry caught his eye and gave him a look of sympathy, because judging by the man’s face, he wasn’t a big fan of the new Defence teacher.

            It was several minutes before Hagrid arrived two seconds after McGonagall silently exited the hall all of a sudden, and another minute before she returned in tow with dozens of scared eleven year olds. This time, Harry watched intently to see where she procured the Sorting Hat and the scroll from and learned that the stern professor had wide sleeves for a reason.

            Harry’s phone pinged, but it wasn’t the only one, and within seconds, everyone was on their phones, reading a text from…

            Albus Dumbledore: _Welcome, welcome, to another year at Hogwarts School of… Read more_

            “I’m just kidding.” Dumbledore chuckled and stood up, raising his arms, earning him laughs from practically every student after a few seconds of processing. “There is no read more on your message from me, even though it looks like it. You can thank Professor Flitwick, head of our IT support for that practical joke.” he gestured towards the short man as he walked towards the front of the podium. “For those of you who don’t have a phone, are too new,” he bowed his head towards the first-years, who did look less afraid now, “or simply can’t remember, I joked last year that I could send a mass text to everyone to do my speech. But then I remembered I’m only allowed to have an audience this big and impressionable enough that you laugh at my jokes only twice a year, so I decided against it.” the Headmaster continued, completely unbothered by the look of _shock_ he got from the Head Table, sans Flitwick and Remus. The laughs and applause from the student body weren’t helping matters at all, but Harry realised he would pay good money for a Dumbledore comedy special. “You’re probably wondering why Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, “at this he addressed the first-years exclusively, “would start making jokes out of the blue. You see, every time a student laughs at my jokes my beard grows another inch.” he winked at them. “Joking aside, I want to welcome you all to another year at Hogwarts!” he turned to the rest of the laughing student body, who were now falling silent. “I have little of importance to announce this time, save that you may use the third floor corridor freely this time around. I know, what was I thinking, cutting of access to an entire bathroom, then serving pumpkin juice for nine months?” he looked around the hall casually. “As per usual, we have a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher this year, renowned author and wizard, Gilderoy Lockhart!” he gestured as the Hall clapped enthusiastically, even throwing some catcalls and whistles here and there, as Lockhart stood up and dozens of camera shutters from phones could be heard scattered around. “We are most gracious for your presence here.” Dumbledore added politely as the clapping died down. “And, as a constant reminder, the Forbidden Forrest is, unsurprisingly, _still_ out of bounds for everyone.” he continued in a what-can-you-do manner.

            Harry started laughing so hard that tears were in his eyes, and he had to hold on to the table, lest he fell out of his seat. Now people were laughing because of him and his ridiculous, barely breathing laugh.

            The whole thing was brought to a halt, however, when Professor McGonagall finally woke up from her daze and dressed her voice, loudly, perhaps even slightly magically enhanced and Dumbledore resumed.

            “As always, our caretaker, Mr. Filtch has asked me to remind you that an updated list of forbidden items in the school is posted on the door to his office. Now, let the Sorting Ceremony commence!” Dumbledore announced, as everyone clapped for his performance of the evening. He even _bowed_ theatrically with his head. “Thank you, I’ll be here all week.” he couldn’t help but add.

            It was absolutely lovely, Harry decided, that this was his first night back in the castle, marked by a very high-spirited Dumbledore, reminding him that even the most harrowed and tried of all people, that has seen and experienced horrific and troubling things, could exude so much joy and laughter into a bunch of people. His automatic respect for Dumbledore as a person, as a teacher and as an icon just grew tenfold. And he wasn’t the only one. Draco, who hadn’t been rather vocal about the elderly man after coming to his senses in the aftermath of the troll incident, looked at the Headmaster with something akin to _fondness_ , the type you reserve for your favourite teacher, because they inspire so much into you. Perhaps that was even the reason. Draco was a young man with a troubled family and an even more troubled future, who came from a bad environment and had trouble adjusting with healthy, trusting relationships that didn’t involve emotional abuse or promoted bad behaviour. And everyone knew Dumbledore hadn’t had it easy, so to see someone go through a lot and still make time to tell jokes could maybe become the most inspiring thing someone like the blond boy could witness.

            The Sorting Ceremony went quicker than expected, mainly because Dumbledore was an evil genius with a master in psychology, and entertaining a bunch of tired, hungry students before a very long a drawn out event was just the thing to make said even go by faster. The last was Ginny Weasley, who went to Gryffindor, rather anticlimactically. Dumbledore didn’t have anything else to add besides wishing everyone a wonderful meal, and only clapped his hands, signalling the elves below them that it was time to send the well-deserved food that they’ve all been waiting for.

            “Hey, Potter!” Zabini said to Harry, who turned around to face him. “I’ve seen your picture with that Lockhart in the Daily Prophet.” he made a motion with his head toward the man and sneered.

            “Yeah, you broke Hooting. _Again_.” Miles Bletchley complained.

            “Don’t remind me.” Harry groaned at the memory as he stabbed his roasted potatoes. “I hated the way he made it so that I _had_ to come up there and take a picture with him.”

            “Wait.” Zabini’s smile dropped. “You didn’t do that photo on purpose?” he asked incredulously.

            “Really, Blaise, when have I ever wanted to do a photo op of my own accord?” Harry faced him with a frown, sarcasm dripping, as other members of the table went “ooh” at his words. “Besides, if and when I decide to do said photo op, you won’t find me in a bookshop.” he continued, deciding to be a bit full of himself for fun.

            “How do you reckon Lockhart will be?” Daphne Greengrass, with whom Harry hadn’t spoken on more than five separate occasions, found herself asking.  

            “Arrogant, boasting, full of himself and then some.” Draco spoke instead. “Oh, wait, you said Lockhart, right?” he joked, looking towards Harry.

            “Yes, she didn’t say Draco Malfoy, she said Lockhart.” Harry replied, purposely taking a sip out of his juice to let his comeback sink in. “And to answer your question, Daphne… Well, like Draco said. I don’t get the feeling he’ll be a particularly capable teacher.” he looked at the Head table to see Lockhart _still_ talking about something and being five seconds away from death by angry werewolf.

            Nearly an hour later, after everybody ate and Dumbledore sent them all to bed, Harry wanted nothing more than to crash into his bed, despite his earlier desire for a meeting in the Room. He took Draco and made their way to the Slytherin Common Room before Pucey lead the first years.

            The place hadn’t changed one bit, although why Harry had the impression that it somehow would was beyond him. It was the very same large space with tall ceilings and glass wall that showed the lake.

            “Are you going to tell me what are your ideas that you mentioned on the train?” Draco asked once inside as they walked to the Year 2 bedrooms.

            “I’ll tell you tomorrow when we’re all together.” Harry tutted exclaimed. “Stop being impatient.” he admonished his friend.

            “Oh, come on!” Draco Malfoy actually _whined_.

            “No previews!” Harry stood his ground and raised a finger in warning to his friend.

            “Fine…” Draco sighed, rolling his eyes. “Why do you have to be mysterious all the time?” he complained as they reached the door.

            “I’m not telling you not because I am being dramatic, I just hate having to repeat…” Harry opened the door and went inside, but something stopped them both in their tracks.

            The two beds on the opposite wall and in front of the door, the two that both boys each occupied, had each disappeared, along with their trunks, their bags and the rest of their luggage that they left in the hall next to the entrance for the elves to pick up. Even the electric sockets near the bed were missing.

            “… Myself.” Harry lamely finished his sentence from before out of reflex. “Um… I have questions.” he turned to Draco, who was equally concerned about the state of things.

            “Is ‘Are we being pranked’ one of those? Because it’s on my list as well.” Draco still stared at the spot where their beds and things should be.

            Their phones sounded off with their respective notifications. Scarheads was having an ongoing process of being populated by an angry string of messages from Hannah. Harry and Draco shared a single look, deciding there was no way this was a coincidence, and opened the app.

            Hannah @Scarheads: _Holy freaking hell_

Hannah @Scarheads: _NonononoNO_

Hannah @Scarheads: _Guys_

Hannah @Scarheads: _GUYS_

            Hannah @Scarheads: _SOMEBODY BLOODY ANSWER ME_

Hannah @Scarheads: _I can’t find my goddamn things anywhere in my dorm!!!!_

Hannah @Scarheads: _This is not a joke, I literally don’t have any of my luggage in here_

Hannah @Scarheads: _GUYS MY FREAKING BED IS GONE_

Hannah @Scarheads: _Who did this?????? Was it one of you???_

Hannah @Scarheads: _Guys, joke’s over, this isn’t funny!_

Hannah @Scarheads: _My phone is dying and I need my charger_

Hannah @Scarheads: _Also my bloody sleep_

Hannah @Scarheads: _Oh my god the socket is gone as well_

Hannah @Scarheads: _GUYS WHAT THE  F U C K_

Neville @Scarheads: (attached file: 20120901_210934)  _You’re not the only one._

            Hermione @Scarheads: _Same here! I don’t know what to do!_

Hannah @Scarheads: _That’s it, I’m going to the house elves, maybe they will know just what’s going on!_

Harry @Scarheads: _No. Stay put, I’m going to get Snape._

“Draco, stay here in case anything changes, okay?” Harry spared a look over his shoulder and left without waiting for a reply, heading straight towards Snape’s quarters and office, opening his contact and sending a message.

            Harry: _Are you in your office?_

Snape: _Yes, why?_

            Harry: _I need to come see you._

Snape: _A visit with a warning? That’s considerate._

Harry: _This is serious, Severus!_

            Snape: _Very well, by all means, come here then._

             Harry knocked on the door as soon as the reply came, before a bored ‘Enter!’ was heard beyond.

            “I appreciate the curtesy of a knock, but permission to enter was already given, you understand. Not that it mattered before, but alas…” Snape, slimy and monotone as ever said from his desk, not looking up from whatever he was writing on some files to see Harry approach.

            “Evening, Severus. I have a problem. Several, in fact.” Harry started as calmly as he could, given the situation.

            Snape looked at his watch. “Already? It’s not even half past nine.” he said, staring back at his files.

            “My things and Draco’s have disappeared. They’re not in our dorm. And we’re not the only ones. Our friends experienced the same thing.” Harry recited, getting more and more irked by the fact that Snape wasn’t saying anything and the man was just writing things down. “Have we been expelled and no one told us?” Harry let out a bit of panic.

            “Not to my recollection and my deepest regret, no, you are still a student of Hogwarts.” Snape calmly replied. “As are the rest of your partners in crime, I’m afraid.”

            “Severus, our _beds_ are gone, how can you stand there calmly and write when I don’t have a place to sleep or a change of clothes!” Harry exploded at the man.

            Snape suddenly stopped, mainly because he had to, as the pen that he was holding _snapped_ in two, sending the top part flying over his left. It would’ve been comical, had it not been for the dangerous expression he was making, like he was promising Harry a thousand painful deaths to be carried out immediately.

            “What… Did… You… Say?” the man punctuated his words.

            “I. Said. My. Bloody. Bed. Was. Gone.” Harry replied in the same tone, only much faster, thanks to his frustration.

            “Potter.” Snape sighed after a few seconds and sat with his back on the rest, dragging his hands across his face, holding them over his mouth for a moment, putting them together and resting his forehead on them like a prayer, then placing them on top of his desk and looked the boy straight in his eyes with a murderous look. “One of these days, I will find the legal option to dissolve you into acid and get away with it.”

            “Why? What’s going on?!” Harry couldn’t stand it anymore.

            “Do you know why we keep _all_ of our students into a single dorm for each House?” Snape answered, but didn’t allow Harry to respond. “It’s for their own safety, for one, and for practicality, as we, the Heads of Houses, have exactly one place for all of our students to house in. That way, we all know where they are supposed to be. Now, as you know, this castle is somewhat sentient and can sense when something is out of order and it tries to rectify things the best it can. I say somewhat sentient, because if it was fully sentient, it would have let me, Minerva, Filius and Pomona sleep easier at night and wouldn’t have allowed you to do what you did.”

            “WHICH IS?” Harry threw his hands up and shouted, but Snape retained his tone and didn’t punish him for the outburst.

            “You have chosen another place in the castle, that is _not_ your dorm, to spend your time in, even _spend the night_ , so much more often than where you _should have_ , that the castle decided that your House Common Room and your dormitory are not the _desired_ location for you and has made that place your current housing.” Snape finished his thought.

            Harry opened his mouth to retort, but then promptly closed it, realising just what the man’s word meant.

            “Oh.” was all he could manage.

            “Yes, _oh_. God, Potter!” Snape’s cool façade melted. “Why do you _insist_ on making my job that much harder?”

            “It’s not like I did this one on purpose, Severus! It’s not my fault the castle acts weird when it comes to me, Hannah and Neville! It lets us go in places we shouldn’t, which is why we got to Fluffy so easily, and it sometimes opens and creates paths were there weren’t before! How was I supposed to know it would go so far as to actually relocate me?” Harry defended himself.

            “I’m perfectly aware that nothing in this situation is your fault, Potter.” Snape sighed deeply and looked at the ceiling, before regarding Harry again. “My issue is that now I have to deal with the fact that two of my students won’t be in their House Common Room from here on out and if something happens, I don’t know where to go to get you. Same goes for my colleagues.”

            “I’ll tell Dumbledore where we are, will that help?” Harry offered.

            “Very much so, yes.” Snape agreed, all anger from him gone. “Although why you can’t tell me is something I’m very keen on knowing.”

            “So we aren’t in actual trouble?” Harry wanted to be perfectly sure.

            “No, as is there no rule that states you must be confined to your dormitory during your entire stay here, it’s simply preferred for the reasons stated before and enforced because it builds and promotes socialising with one’s peers. The existing dormitories are _offered_ to the students as viable options. Personal dormitories are not given without reason and are usually discouraged, but exceptions have been made before.” Snape explained, whipping out his wand and fixing his pen. “Other than the fact that there are some things not even the teachers can do to override when the castle itself decides something, you are not alone in this, so wherever it is that you reside now is still considered a dorm, for all intents and purposes, just a more private one, like it was shortly after the foundation of this school, due to the small number of students.” Snape admitted. “And you are more than capable of looking out for yourself, and I hear misters Malfoy and Longbottom are nothing to be sneered at either.”

            “And it promotes inter-house unity, so Dumbledore will have no objections.” Harry realised. “I think he will quite like the idea, if he’s not even aware of it.”

            “To put it mildly. I will be surprised if he hasn’t a project like this in the works.” Snape shook his head. “Now, was there something else?”

            “Actually… yes.” Harry remembered and took a more serious tone. “Have you spoken to Lucius Malfoy recently, by any chance?”

            “Earlier today. Why?”

            “Are you aware of his plan to re-open the Chamber of Secrets?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

            Snape gaped and blinked in rapid succession.

            “I know Draco is somewhat connected to Salazar Slytherin, but I was under the impression that…”

            “It’s on his mother’s side?” Harry finished for him. “Yeah, but Druella Rosier wasn’t the one who opened the Chamber fifty years ago, that was Voldemort.” Snape shivered automatically at the name, but then he stared into space, thinking. “Yes, makes sense now, doesn’t it?” Harry made a face, at which Snape nodded slightly to the side, then turned back to Harry to continue. “Of course, we don’t have any evidence and I can’t tell you how we know this and you obviously can’t confront Lucius, he’ll just deny everything and it will get you in trouble with him. I’m just saying this so that we can be on the lookout, be prepared for anything.”

            “Why can’t you bring me _normal_ problems for once?” Snape rested his head on his hand, looking disapprovingly at Harry.

            “You said to clue you in from time to time.” the boy shrugged.

            “Yes, of course I did. Whatever was I thinking?” the man asked rhetorically.

            “So, keep an eye out, try to keep the Muggleborns safe from harm and also inform Dumbledore, because one of Lucius’ goals is to get him out of Hogwarts.” Harry summarised.

            “Very well. I shall speak with the Headmaster tonight, after I inform the other Heads of Houses of your group’s situation. Now off to bed. Wherever that is.” Snape dismissed him, tapping on his phone.

            “See you in class, Severus. Good night.” Harry bid him farewell.

            “Same to you, Potter.” Snape replied airily, putting his phone to his ear. “Yes, Minerva? I must discuss something with you…” Harry head Snape talking on the phone as he closed the door behind him.

            He opened his VTrunk app and recorded a voice message for them, as he didn’t have the patience to write at this moment in time, being too exhausted from everything.

            “Hey, guys? Listen up, we’ll have to go to the Room tonight after all, I just talked with Snape and explained the situation, and he said the castle decided we should bunk there now, since we spent so much time there last year.” he started saying as he climbed the Giant Staircase, mindful of Filtch and Peeves. “I’ll explain everything later. Draco, I can hear you complaining all the way here from what will be the past by the time you listen to this, because I didn’t wait for you, but I just want to crash into my bed as soon as possible, so get over it and move your arse.” Harry laughed to himself as he sent the audio message.

            By the time he reached the fifth floor, however, his phone buzzed something fierce. He had received a private message, because it wasn’t the notification sound he set for VTrunk. No, this was someone using normal messages through a SIM card. Thinking it was Draco cursing him out, Harry opened the message with a sly smile.

            But what he saw gave him pause.

 

            There was a picture attached to the text, an image of him walking and holding his phone horizontally, his mouth open mid-speaking. It was more than likely taken only minutes early, with something akin to a hi-res camera, because the number of pixels in it far surpassed what even the _Titan II_ could display, zoomed out completely. But judging by the angle, whoever snapped the photo had to have been somewhere on the left, on Harry’s exact level, but that was the strange thing, seeing as the picture _clearly_ showed him on the second floor landing, and the opposite wall of it had nothing on it, except painting and no ledge or platform for someone to stand on. So someone obviously went to a great deal of trouble to take this photo of him. But what made him very nervous was the chilling text itself.

 

            Unknown: _Careful, Harry. Even the walls have eyes and ears. But whose?_

_-R_

            “What the fuck?” Harry breathed in horror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH Y'ALL WANTED A TWIST?
> 
> Oh, don't judge me. You knew this was coming. I've said it from the beginning that someone will be an -A from Pretty Little Liars type of character, only without the murderous intent. Somewhat criminal, but not outright malicious. And I will not pull a Marlene King and make it someone you don't know, because unlike her, I have long established in my head who will it be and why they're doing it, and yes, it is someone we know. Maybe we've already met them. Maybe not. But more on that later.
> 
> Writing Lucius is fun, because even if I rely heavily on book/film dialogue here and there, I still have to emulate the emotion of a scene in text, so it's quite something to put into words his sense of superiority. Italics are a lifesaver here, helping me put emphasis on words and all of that. Oh, and Lockhart. How precious will his character be to dismantle. Harry continues to give less shits as he grows older, let me tell you that now. 
> 
> I love how I'm making the titular character a potty mouth at the tender age of twelve because A: have you met 12 year olds in 2012? and B: one of his flaws is that he is sort of temperamental and rebellious underneath that calm, very smart exterior, so sometimes he can't help himself.
> 
> I do hope it doesn't seem like moving them all into the Room on a more permanent basis doesn't seem that rushed or done simply because of plot reasons, it's just that they have already spent so much time there during their first year and I rarely mentioned Common Rooms after they discovered it, that it seemed like a natural progression at this point. It will be touched on more in next chapter/s.
> 
> As always, love all of your comments, your patience with me and my dealing with life as I write this fic will always be rewarded, and I will see you all next time. (And yes, 1st of September 2012 is a Saturday, it's a new thing to give the students an extra day of settling in and the first years some time to adjust to new surroundings. Now I will stop writing for today, because it's 3 AM and I'm spelling everything wrong and it takes me at least three tries to do write a more than four letter word correctly.)


	16. The Invisible Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang settles back into life at Hogwarts, but someone's watching Harry, and something else has them on edge.

            “So you have no idea who it might be?” Hermione asked Harry again, ten minutes later in the Room, as they all gathered in front of the _True Scribble_ board, which showed Harry’s phone and the message from that R person.

            “Not one clue.” he admitted, scanning the text for the hundredth time, trying to come up with a solution.

            “They’re clearly threatening you here.” Draco pointed at the screen after stroking his chin in deep thought.

            “Or it’s possible it’s a warning.” Neville countered, standing up, looking at the screen.

            “Worded like _that_?” Hannah huffed and raised an eyebrow, arms and legs crossed as she sat on the sofa. “Come off it, who in the world would warn someone by sending them a paparazzi shot and a creepy text?” she turned her head around, looking somewhat concerned at Harry.

            “Or it’s just your first official stalker?” Draco tried for light teasing, resting his hands on the back of the sofa. “With all this Lockhart craze and how he encourages attention, you might be looking at someone who’s a big fan of yours.”

            “Not. Helping.” Harry gritted his teeth, because the image of him having someone watching his every move and possibly attempt to win his affection in any manner was pure nightmare fuel.

            “We could trace back the source?” Hermione tried. “You know, find out where they are and more importantly, who.”

            At this she received four stares of disbelief at the same time, everyone’s heads turning to her slowly.

            “What?” she defended herself against the oncoming judgment.

            “We’re not exactly Tech Support at Scotland Yard, you know.” Harry deadpanned, even though only Hermione would fully understand that reference.

            “We could try!” she flailed her arms to her sides, nearly hitting Neville on the nose.

            “Oh, yes, because we will suddenly go from learning how to open a Microsoft Excel document to hacking a secure connection during our next Muggle Studies lesson!” Draco sarcastically replied, regarding the bushy haired girl with a look that screamed annoyance.

            “Oh, like they’ve been teaching Harry how to fly and use telekinesis in _Charms_!” Hermione whipped around and launched a verbal attack in the next nanosecond, making everyone else shift slightly away from her in fear. “ _You’re_ practically tech support, why can’t you learn how do it? You’re already far more advanced than us at anything that presumes technology.” she made her point.

            “It’s a far cry from making a program calculate some equations based on variables that _I_ input, Granger, to breaking away a vast array of security connections!” Draco rubbed his eyes before explaining.

            “I did not say it will be easy, nor that you will do it alone, Draco.” Hermione’s voice softened a bit. “I don’t like this creep spying on Harry or us so I am going to do whatever it takes to find them. Now, are you with me or not, Malfoy?” she stood higher somehow, making everyone look at Draco in anticipation.

            “ _Fine_!” he rolled his eyes after a second and gave out a defeated breath, as Hermione jumped with joy. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll do it. _But_ you don’t get to hound me if stopping father’s plans take priority.” he pointed a finger at her.

            “Goes without saying.” Hermione agreed almost solemnly.

            “Well… This was fun… Ish.” Harry said out of the blue, interrupting their shenanigans. “But I’m going to bed.” he declared as he stood up and made his way.

            “Wha –” Hannah sputtered, looking around like she was being made fun of just now. “You just dump this in our faces and leave to take a nap without spending more than five minutes on it?” she argued at Harry while gesturing with her hand at the screen, which Harry turned off with his phone.

            “I’m tired and we have a whole day ahead of us to bash our head in yet another unknown.” Harry replied nonchalantly. “But by all means, lose sleep over it, it’s not going to become any clearer if you’re not rested.” he shrugged.

            Hannah scoffed and rested her back on the sofa, muttering something along the lines of ‘I hate it when he’s right’ under her breath.

            “By the way…” Neville remembered. “You didn’t exactly tell us where are our things.” he turned around in his seat to face Harry.

            “I did?” Harry made a face. “I just sent a voice message saying we’re staying here from now on.” he blinked several times.

            “Mate, _where_?!” Neville, frustrated because of the lack of rest, looked around pointedly. “I’m not seeing my laptop or my charger, or Trevor’s terrarium, and I just want my bloody bed!” the boy yelled angrily at the situation.

            Of course, it was then the Room decided for it to shift in accordance to the occupant’s wishes. The celling rose another floor, revealing two identical balconies on either side, each with two doors, with four sets of stairs, two facing each other at the wall opposite of the entrance and the other two facing the wall with the door.

            Concerning the wall that was facing the entrance, the windows and balcony raised up, leaving underneath a fifth door. The floor they were on went down three steps, designating the middle area as a living room, and now the admittedly cosy hanging out spot shifted into a very spacious place, as it stretched out more than it physically should, filling the spaces in between with bookshelves and the occasional wall lamp and socket.

            Everyone gaped in stunned silence, as everything changed with a rumbling sound right before their eyes. Draco was the first one to recover, running towards the door on the main floor, but stopping short right in front of it.

            “Ah.” he exclaimed slightly disappointed, but as if he was expecting it. “This one’s yours, Potter.” he turned around on his heels, pointed with his thumb over his shoulder and promptly went to climb the newly created stairs.

            Everyone else followed suite, albeit more calmly than Draco. Arriving at his door, Harry could see why the blond thought it wasn’t for him. Underneath the visor there was a white lightning painted on the material, not exactly in the shape of the one on Harry’s forehead, which the boy always thought was a reddish, backwards 4, it was more like the stylised version on his combat jacket, more zig-zagged, thicker and longer.

            “Oh my god… _How did it know_?” Hermione’s shouts of disbelief came from Harry’s right. Looking up to the right balcony, Harry could see her and Neville standing at their respective doors, with Hermione gaping at something behind the open door. “It looks _exactly_ like my bedroom, _how_ did it…” she trailed off, looking at Neville. “You wanted our beds to appear, have I ever shown you my room back home?” she asked, but the boy could only shake his head.

            Harry entered his new bedroom, finding that it wasn’t like the one from home at all. Hardwood, lacquered floors with the colour of ashy black, walk-in closet on the left, _huge_ double-bed on top of a soft-looking rug, flanked by two nightstands, each with a lamp, two open balcony windows, from floor to celling, on either side of the nightstands, whose drapes danced from the wind blowing outside, sleek marble bathroom to the right… All of these things made Harry realise that the Room gave him a bedroom straight out of a real-estate magazine, fashioned for him as per his desires. It retrospect, he shouldn’t be so surprised, after spending so much time last year in here, pouring his thoughts and his magic in this place, it was no wonder that it reflexively knew what he wanted.

            “ _Wow_. Could you _be_ any posher?” Hannah’s voice came from behind Harry, as the boy turned around to see all of his friends standing in the doorway, looking around the room with curiosity and then he realised he had been standing inside, taking it all in, for quite a while. Gobsmacked as he was, he didn’t realise that more than a few minutes had passed.

            “Hey, my bedroom is as _elegant_ as his, why does he get the judgment?” Draco defended his friend, looking accusatorily at Hannah, whose head was below his, peeking from the side of the frame.

            “Because I expect that from you, but I wasn’t aware that _Harry_ had such expensive taste.” she replied with a roll of her eyes, trying to look up at Draco.

            “The top of the line smartphones and laptops didn’t give it away?” Hermione huffed with a sneer from the other side of the frame, with Neville nodding his head.

            “Would you…!” Harry exclaimed in frustration and slight embarrassment, making movements with his hand. “ _Out_! All of you! There will be time to make fun of me in the _morning_! Good night!” he continued as his friends laughed and retreated, wishing him a good night as well. Harry whipped his hand and made the door close itself, completely silencing any sounds from the… well, the living room, now.

            ‘ _Thank god for small comforts.’_ Harry thought before getting ready for bed.

 

            The next morning, Harry found himself sleeping in late, unusual for him, but judging by the eventful day and the fact that on Saturday morning he had been up since five, it wasn’t that inconceivable. Groggily making his way to the living area after a quick shower, Harry entered to see his friends sitting around, eating breakfast and watching a TV show on the board.

            “Morning!” Hannah was the first to notice him and pointed at the newly appeared coffee table, which had a vast selection of foods and drinks. “Help yourself.” she suggested to a tired Harry, who sat down on his chair.

            “Did you have to raid the kitchen again?” Harry joked as he made his plate float around and collect bacon and eggs.

            “No, I just asked a house elf.” Hannah looked nonplussed, like it was supposed to be obvious.

            “What, we’re not going to have our meals in the Great Hall anymore?” Harry raised an eyebrow after drinking from his orange juice. “I feel punished and liberated at the same time.” he spoke to no one in particular.

            “Hannah is Helga Hufflepuff’s heir, whatever she asks of the house elves of Hogwarts is literally their command.” Neville answered, helping himself to a piece of bacon from Harry’s plate, earning him a scornful look from the green-eyed boy.

            “Still not comfortable with that.” Hermione said to Hannah, still watching the screen.

            “Bugger what you think, saves us an extra trip down the whole castle for a meal!” Draco snorted, mouth full of food, but somehow able to perfectly articulate his words as normal.

            “Aside from the fact that we can use the exercise,” Hermione clicked her tongue and started arguing, “I don’t like getting this much preferential treatment.” she squirmed in her seat.

            “Oh, _relax_! We helped stop a Dark Lord from returning and gaining immortal life, I think this qualifies as just reward.” Hannah sighed, pushing against Hermione’s shoulder affectionately. “And we can still have meals in the Great Hall during lunch and go to our respective Common Rooms if we want to. We’re still part of our Houses.” she continued.

            “Really? I don’t know, it seems a bit excluding that we’re now sequestered here and not with our House mates. Are we still…” Neville voiced his concerns but Hermione interrupted him.

            “No, we’re not out of our Hogwarts Houses, the Sorting Hat’s decision is binding and final.” the girl explained. “For example, if a former student was to visit the castle, he or she could still enter the Common Room, provided they have the password.”

            “So technically, once a Gryffindor, always a Gryffindor?” Neville pondered, at which Hermione nodded.

            “Yes, but it feels like we have our own informal House, so to speak.” Draco said as the characters on screen were currently engaged in a battle. “Imagine what they will say to first years in a few decades…” he dressed his voice and emulated McGonagall’s no-nonsense aura. “There are _five_ Houses: Gryffin _dor_ , Huffle _puff_ , Raven _claw_ …” he went really Scottish on the last syllable, “Slythe­ _rin_ and… _Scarheads_!” he finished with pomp, making everyone burst out laughing.

            “For all the misfits and trouble-makers that don’t fit anywhere else!” Hannah agreed with that sentiment, wiping away tears.

            “A nice thought, but I doubt even the Room could house a couple of hundred students like it does for us.” Harry sobered up.

            Hannah, who was now scrolling on her phone, let out a short, barking laugh that came out of nowhere.

            “What?” Harry deigned to ask what was so funny, which earned him an incredulous look.

            “Oh, come on! You watch Doctor Who! You know how this goes!” she laughed at the conversation. “Bigger on the inside? No?” she tried when Harry didn’t quite get it.

            “There must be _some_ limit!” Harry couldn’t process the idea fully, but it did give him some thoughts.

            “There may very well be.” Hannah agreed, before resuming to scroll on her phone. “But space and time, and especially _space_ , are easily manipulated by magic and judging by the fact that we’re in an ancient castle with more of it than we can imagine, _and_ we’re sitting on a large intersection of ley lines…”

            “Which I’m guessing has this Room as the centre.” Hermione added, at which Hannah nodded approvingly and continued.

            “… the resulting power from ambient and direct magic could very well extend the Room on the inside to be even bigger than the castle itself, easily. We could have entire fields here and yet the outside wouldn’t change a bit.” the blonde girl smirked.

            Harry said nothing, but merely stood up and walked towards the wall in front of him and waited.

            The bookshelves moved away and the room extended slightly to make way for yet another inconspicuous door. Only this one had a dumbbell marked on it.

            “Then you guys will _love_ this.” Harry shot them a sly smile and entered, while everyone rushed towards him, leaving behind their uneaten breakfast and whatever Arthur Pendragon was doing on screen.

            Harry waited inside as the four others stopped short just after the entrance and their faces lighted up. The new section was something like a gym, but it was the size of an entire football field, with a celling as tall as a cathedral, walls made out of white, rectangular plaques meant to withstand damage, training mats all over, a vast show of training equipment, ranging from weights to dummies, climbing rocks and a pool somewhere in the corner. And for Harry, that was just the start.

            “What did you…” Draco started out with a whisper.

            “I thought since we can’t escape trouble no matter what, it would be better to be prepared for it.” Harry explained as he walked over to a training dummy, brushing his hands over it. “I thought to do something similar in the Room, even if we had to sacrifice the way it looks now, but since Hannah pointed out that it can basically be infinite…” he trailed off, as the others still watched in awe.

            “You enjoy having dramatic reveals, don’t you?” Hermione recovered somewhat and joked.

            “What can I say?” Harry shrugged nonchalantly as he flew from the floor, twirled around and used his powers to make the dummy he touched earlier fly across the room, into the wall behind him, and with a violent snap of his arm, the poor object shattered with immense force when it collided with the intended target, making the other four people jump in surprise. “I do love putting on a show.” Harry cheekily added as he landed in front of them and the dummy repaired itself. “Although this is just rudimentary, you guys will have to add to it, and whatever the Room can’t provide I’ll get for us. I already have an order on it’s way.” Harry revealed.

            “Of what, exactly?” Hannah asked, walking around and examining everything.

            “Training programmes, fireproof equipment now that Nev’s an Elemental, a few more security measures, to name a few.” Harry recited. “So, anyone up for a little sparring match?” he jovially added.

            “Lets… have our breakfast settle in, first.” Neville was the voice of reason, looking around fearfully. “It wouldn’t do to empty the contents of our stomachs so soon.”

            “True.” Harry had to concede. “Sorry, I’m just a bit excited.” he explained with a sheepish smile. “Been wanting to make this for ages now.” he turned around to take the training area in once more.

            They didn’t end up fighting each other, an hour later after Harry declared enough time had passed, mainly got Neville and Draco to both exercise their gifts, while Hannah and Hermione took notes on their progress and practiced some spells from a book Harry provided. The latter only flew around the vast area, doing all sorts of tricks, timing his runs to achieve even more speed. Thankfully, whatever power he had protected him from the Gs his body wouldn’t be able to do.

            “Does the size and weight of an object matter when you move it?” Hermione asked Harry sometime later, who was trying to lift a 100- kilo weight off the ground. Apparently, the girl was already finished with her selection of spells for the day. “Or is it like the Force, and size matters not?” she made a funny.

            “Since we’re still on Earth, yes, it does matter.” Harry breathed out, struggling to keep the weight on its upwards course. “It’s not like the Force, even though there is magic in most things, I have to fight the gravitational pull of the planet against an object. I suspect if we were somewhere in space and got a hold of a large object not entirely affected by gravitational force, I _could_ , in theory, propel it easily.” at this he strained even more, barely managing to keep the weight suspended, a few dozen metres above the floor.

            “So it’s the mass itself that could give you trouble.” Hermione pondered as she helped Harry finally lower the weight back down. “ _Wingardium Leviosa._ ” she intoned as the weight went down faster, but still slow enough that it was deliberate. “Not to sell your power short…” she started.

            “Which would be rude, considering it saved your life multiple times.” Harry gave her the side-eye.

            “But there are _actual_ spells that can help with this sort of thing, you know?” she rolled her eyes and gave the boy a condescending smile.

            “Oh, _really_?” Harry drawled out, letting go of his grip, watching Hermione as she yelped the second the weight started crashing even against her spell and nearly tripped forward as her hand went down with it, before the boy wordlessly caught the rapidly descending object, settling it down with a small _thud_. “As you can see, it’s practically the same thing, it depends on the level of power you put into the magic. And I put in a lot with barely any effort.” Harry continued, taking over the condescending tone of the conversation.

            “So, wait…” Hermione recovered from her embarrassment, even though her ear-tips were redder than before. “If you had a feather weighing an ounce…”

            “If you want draw a parallel to the 100 kilograms weight before us, please use the metric system.” Harry pointed out, at which the girl groaned in her throat, looked up and smacked her lips.

            “Okay…” she started again, looking back at Harry, this time more annoyed. “If you had a hundred thousand feathers, all weighing one gram, wouldn’t lifting them all up at the same time put a strain on you like the weight?” she questioned, and even though it was an obvious answer, Harry decided to reply nonetheless.

            “The more objects I levitate, the more the total mass increases, thus the total weight increases and then it just becomes the argument of what’s heavier: a tonne of gold or a tonne of feathers.”

            “Answer: they’re the same weight.” Hermione agreed. “Though I wonder if it would be considered cheating if you throwed a few of your power punches and simply made the feathers float as a result of the force.” she pondered.

            “I think in that case it would be considered rather clever.” Harry quipped with a half-smile.

            “True. Although we will never know for sure. Not unless we find a ridiculously large bird to pluck.” Hermione deadpanned, which sent them both a second later down fits of giggles.

            It, of course, stopped short, when Harry noticed _an actual inferno_ coming from Hermione’s behind at an alarming rate, threatening to burn them to a crisp. He barely got time to yell at the girl to get down and put up the best shield he could at the moment, before the fireball collided into an invisible wall just a few feet from them, exploding into nothing with a deafening sound of oxygen burning fast, before disappearing into a cloud of smoke.

            “FOR MERLIN’S SAKE, LONGBOTTOM!” Draco’s shouts could be heard somewhere ahead of them, even in the distance.

            “I’m _so_ sorry, I didn’t notice… _Ow_!” the boy responsible was shouting through the thick, dark smoke, before someone, most likely Hannah, smacked him on the back of his head. “I said I’m sorry!”

            Harry and Hermione decided to intervene before Draco’s ranting about nearly killing them off (“BEST CHANCE THE WIZARDING WORLD HAS AND THE BRIGHTEST WITCH OF OUR AGE, AND YOU NEARLY TURNED THEM INTO FRIED MEAT! I DON’T CARE IF YOUR FIENDFYRE HAS A CRUSH ON HARRY AND IT DOESN’T HURT HIM, THAT WAS NORMAL FIRE, LONGBOTTOM!”) got out of hand. Suffice it to say, Neville was no longer allowed to use fire unless it was at a wall, a designated target, or he triple checked if the way was clear, although Harry thought to come up with a solution for a designated area in which fire, even Elemental Fiendfyre, could exist only within those boundaries. For everyone’s safety.  
            Deciding it was enough for one day, Harry ventured out after lunch to meet up with Remus for some catching up as everybody else was minding their own schedules. The Flying Instructor was waiting for him at the open doors to the Clock Tower Courtyard, looking pensively at the grey skies. It was a bit nippy this up north, so Harry was thankful that he reminded himself to dress more appropriately, even though his normal green Chucks weren’t exactly Scotland autumn material.

            “Harry!” Remus greeted the boy with a warm hug. “How are you? Had a nice summer?” he asked as they parted and started walking towards the grounds.

            “I’m good. Very good, in fact.” Harry smiled.

            “I bet you are. I heard the most curious rumours about you. Whispers in the teacher’s lounge.” the man continued cryptically, obviously trying to goad Harry into confessing, but it seemed he was momentarily forgetting who he was dealing with.

            “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific than that, Remus.” Harry airily replied, looking at fallen leaves dancing in the wind near a stone bench.

            “Well, for starters, a little bird told me that you are spending your nights elsewhere than in your dorm from now on.” Remus chuckled.

            “I didn’t know Snape was considered a little bird, I thought the consensus leaned more towards a leathery-winged mammal.” Harry played along.

            “True, but my question still stands.” Remus laughed.

            “Which is? You never actually asked.” Harry pointed out cheekily and Remus had to slightly roll his eyes, but it was more in affection rather than frustration.

            “Do you have other living quarters other than the Slytherin dormitories?” he granted Harry’s request.

            “Yes, in fact!” Harry said enthusiastically as they approach the wooden bridge. “Apparently, spending more than ninety percent of your free time in someplace else than your dorm, even sleeping there, activates this really obscure clause in which the castle decides: ‘Well, since you like it here so much, why don’t you stay here? No need to do any moving, I’ll bring your bed up.’” Harry went on explaining.

            “So you moved up a floor? Or a few?” Remus hummed, looking at Harry inquisitively.

            “Remus, I was in the _dungeons_. Practically anywhere else in the castle is a floor above for me.” Harry was quick to remind him.

            “And does the Headmaster know?” the man continued his poorly conducted interrogation.

            “Didn’t you say you heard the rumour in the _teacher’s_ lounge?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “If you want to know how the conversation with Dumbledore went, I can just show you.” he offered, and the man practically _jumped_ when offered Harry’s phone, which displayed his text messages with the Headmaster.

            Harry: _Good evening, Professor Dumbledore. How are things?_ _Loved the stand-up act at the feast, by the way._

Albus Dumbledore: _Good evening, Harry. Yes, I’ve noticed. Thank you for that. It truly warms these old bones when I can still make people laugh._

Harry: _I wanted to disclose something. I don’t know if Professor Snape has talked to you yet._

Albus Dumbledore: _I haven’t spoken to Severus since the feast, no. My door is always open to you, however._

Harry: _This won’t take that long, it’s just an update. You see, me and my friends have found a spot to spend our time in and sometimes we spend the night there because it was safer than wandering the halls back to our dorms. We didn’t mean to, it just happened. And now the castle decided we will live there now for the duration of our school years._

Albus Dumbledore: _I can’t say I’m surprised. To be perfectly honest, I have used the student monitoring wards from time to time to check on you, and even though it didn’t show where exactly you were, it did tell me you were still in the castle and still safe. There is a part of me that would reprimand you for spending your nights elsewhere than in your dorm, but it would be hypocritical of me by now, considering the gift you received last Christmas, which I’m sure you figured out it was from me._

Harry: _Of course I did. But it did take me the whole day._

Albus Dumbledore: _Naturally._

Harry: _So we’re not in any trouble?_

Albus Dumbledore: _No, you know I trust your judgement. Out of context, entrusting a twelve year-old with their own care is a bit odd, yes, but you and I both know it’s not a problem when it comes to you. This sort of thing has happened a handful of times during my tenure as Headmaster, albeit when it concerned older students, so it’s not without precedent, and the castle itself wouldn’t let you set up shop, as it were, just anywhere if it wasn’t considered a liveable space, so you’re perfectly clear on all fronts. And I do like the fact that you brought your friends from other Houses with you._

Harry: _Snape did say you’d like that part and that you have a project like this in the works._

Albus Dumbledore: _I do, in fact. I might not live to see it implemented, but I have a rough draft of it in my files. Might I ask where exactly do you live now?_

            Albus Dumbledore: _Absolutely remarkable. I have never known this sort of place existed in the castle. I think I happened upon it by accident, at some point, but it was entirely different back then, of course. I never found it again afterwards._

Harry: _Well, no, you wouldn’t, that’s kind of the whole point of it. But now you know how to access it, in cases of emergency._

Albus Dumbledore: _Very well. I shall set the security wards to send a message pertaining the location and how to enter to the nearest teacher at the time, should it be needed._

Harry: _I still think it’s wicked cool that you can do that, even though I have no idea how it works._

Albus Dumbledore: _Professor Burbage can explain it better than I can, and during third year you can opt to take Muggle Studies as well as Wizarding Studies, if you are interested in learning coding._

Harry: _Thank you, sir. I’ll retreat to bed now, it’s getting late. Good night, Professor._

Albus Dumbledore: _Good night, Harry._

            “You deleted the text.” Remus said after a minute of reading Harry’s conversation with the Headmaster. “Clever.”

            “I’m also my mother’s son, if you remember.” Harry snickered as he took back his phone.

            “To my greatest frustration, you are indeed. James, I could handle. Lily, on the other hand…” the werewolf left the sentence hanging. “Why all the secrecy?”

            “Because it’s a very special place and bringing more attention to it is not what I want right now.” Harry explained as they went downhill towards the greenhouses.

            “Alright, alright!” Remus laughed, putting his hands up.

            “Now, enough about me. What about you?” Harry decided it was time to turn the tables.

            “Me? I had a very boring summer, nothing out of the ordinary.” Remus replied honestly.

            “No, I meant your conversation with Lockhart last night. What was that about?” he goaded the man.

            “Oh, _don’t_ remind me!” Remus groaned, completely out of character. “The bloody git is absolutely _insufferable_ , the idiot!”

            “ _Wow_.” Harry had to stop and stare at Remus in disbelief. “First you swore, then you talked badly about a fellow teacher. I mean, I know he’s particularly annoying, but _that_ bad, Remus?” the boy resumed his walk with the teacher.

            “I’m terribly sorry, Harry, I didn’t mean to say that…” Remus looked ashamed, but Harry wasn’t having it.

            “Uh, yeah, you _did_!” he made a ‘duh’ expression.

            “Okay, yes, I did!” Remus admitted in a rather speedy manner. “He’s so stuck up, so full of crap and that story of how he _almost_ cured a werewolf of his lycanthropy, but then it got away before he could do it…” he continued bitterly and Harry had to stop himself from finding Lockhart and punching him bloody for being so utterly insensitive.

            It was a small, innocent brag for the blond locked man, meant to give him an aura of awe, but of course, there were exactly five people in Hogwarts currently aware that Remus had a furry little problem, which mean that his comment, while innocent, hit on secret hurts for a certain man with more scars and grey hairs than he should have at the age of 34. And Harry couldn’t fathom the humiliation on Remus’ mind during the feast when he heard that. No wonder he was nearly a second from maiming the Defence Professor.

            “I don’t know what Dumbledore was thinking, putting someone like that in charge of teaching you Defence Against the Dark Arts.” Remus continued his muttering.

            “Probably something along the lines of ‘This will be very amusing to watch’.” Harry thought for a second before blurting it out, making Remus laugh. A bit bitterly, but a laugh still.

            “Yes, that would be Dumbledore to a point. I would suggest you some other books to learn from this year, other than that rabble Lockhart’s been flaunting about, but something tells me you won’t need it.”

            “Heard another rumour?” Harry replied sarcastically.

            “Yes, in fact, I did.” Remus smiled at the boy.

            “This is getting ridiculous, exactly what in the world goes around the gossip vine in this castle and why are the _teachers_ so interested in it?” Harry lost his cool.

            “We generate half of the gossip ourselves, Harry. Not entirely on purpose, but we do get bored sometimes, you know.” Remus winked at him.

            “I _knew_ it!” Harry gasped loudly, scaring a couple of birds in the trees nearest him. “There was no way a student came up with that Emmanuel Piotr rumour about Peeves, that was so clever it nearly fit!”

            “Nearly? We spent the better part of a semester crafting his backstory!” Remus looked entirely outraged.

            “Wait, really?” Harry frowned.

            “No.” Remus recovered and shook his head. “Sinistra made a joke during lunch and we just kind of stuck with it when some first years asked about the origins of Peeves and it since became an inside joke.”

            “Back to the subject at hand…” Harry rolled his eyes.

            “Of course, my self-centred pupil.” Remus mockingly bowed his head.

            “What did you hear now?” Harry continued in the same tone.

            “Oh, nothing. Just that you are capable of using magic in strange ways, which is how you fought Quirrell and Lord Voldemort in the summer and lived.” Remus mentioned absentmindedly, pointedly looking away by studying some tower in the distance.

            “All true.” Harry agreed and the man whipped his head back to him so fast it felt like it hurt.

            “You’re joking. Tell me you’re joking. There is no way Severus Snape was right about this!” he looked positively stunned, but Harry would make his expression seem calm in comparison in the next second.

            “I’m being perfectly honest. Would you like to see it?” he smiled innocently, at which Remus could only nod.

            Harry looked around, careful of any wandering students, before he winked at Remus and launched off the ground in an instant. He flew around in circles above Remus, going higher and higher, before stopping above the tree lines, doing a graceful backflip with his arms stretched out, and went down with his head towards the ground, stopping immediately on level with Remus’ jaw-to-the-floor expression.

            “Any other stories I could clear for you?” Harry crossed his arms nonchalantly, still upside-down, while Remus could only laugh.

 

            The next grey morning found Harry, Hermione, Hannah, Neville and Draco walking down the path to the Greenhouses for their first Herbology class of the year, eager to finally start school normally, as any child is for only the first month back to school. Any child that wasn’t Hermione, that is.

            “What’s up with them giving us so much time between classes this year?” Harry head a voice he suspected to be Hermione, but looking up from his phone it was actually Hannah who was complaining. “I mean, last year they were more structured, so much in fact that we had a free Friday, now they’re spread out stupidly and we have classes _every day_!” came the last part of her speech, and Harry’s view of the Universe stopped from shattering, because the day Hannah complained about having too much free time without there being a part two of said complaint, would be the day the Earth exploded.

            “Oh, would you…!” Draco huffed angrily, then took a breath to calm down. “We have three, count them, _three_ classes on our schedule for Friday, all of them before lunch, and that pattern presents itself for every day except Thursday, where you have the _miniscule_ hour of Astronomy at eight o’clock, exactly how is this unacceptable for you?” he continued in a much more contained manner.

            “I wanted to sleep in?” Hannah replied, confused, at which Draco facepalmed.

            “Yes, Hannah Abbott, hibernating bear for all seasons!” Neville laughed at them, earning a shove from the blonde girl.

            “I have snuck a peek at Ewan Carter’s timetable when I ran into him at breakfast today.” Hermione declared, effectively drawing all attention on her.

            “The fifth year with curly hair?” Harry remembered the older boy accosting Hermione to ask her a question. “What did he want anyway?”

            “Asked me why I wasn’t in my dorm these past two nights, told him it was my business, threatened me with Flitwick, replied to go ahead and also tell him about the mind sharpening drugs he took during exams last year.” Hermione sighed and explained. “He was much more civil after that and we had a nice chat.” she continued, ignoring the stares she was getting. “Anyway, the point is his timetable is cramped with hours and hours of classes, so I do think we’re getting off rather easy.”

            “Ravenclaw students _drug_ themselves for exams?” Hannah whispered, horrified, to an equally distraught Draco, who couldn’t do more than shrug.

            “Oh, no.” Harry breathed, stopping in his tracks.

            He didn’t have to explain to the others, because right ahead of them was Lockhart with Professor Sprout discussing in front of the greenhouses. Every other student trailing behind the group stopped as well to witness the most unexpected sight.

            “Ah, here come our students, Pomona!” the man’s voice rang loudly and theatrically, turning to his newest audience. “I was just helping Professor Sprout here with advice on how to properly care for a Whomping Willow.” he smiled his idiotic and sweet grimace for everyone to see, and Professor Sprout, usually very enthusiastic and colourful, looked like she wanted nothing more than to melt into the background. “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to replace her as a Herbology teacher, but I do know quite a bit more about…” he started _speeching,_ a word Harry created to associate with this kind of behaviour.

            “To greenhouse three, children!” Professor Sprout interrupted the process, in a pointed and tempered manner, extremely uncharacteristic of her, but Lockhart paid her no mind, simply bid his farewell and started walking.

            “This _bitch_ …” someone completely outrage started swearing.

            “Neville!” Hermione gasped and turned to the red-faced, mouth-agape boy with the angriest look Harry had ever seen on him.

            “Good day, children!” Lockhart planted himself in front of them like he belonged there. “Might I steal Harry away for a minute?” he inquired, but without waiting for a response he planted a hand on Harry’s shoulder and steered him away. “Don’t worry Pomona, I won’t keep him long!” he continued as they walked behind the greenhouses, away from any prying eyes, and Harry completely prepared for any surprises. It wouldn’t be the first Defence teacher that would have it out for him.

            But of course, it wasn’t what Harry expected.

            “Harry, Harry, Harry…” Lockhart said after a minute, shaking his head, but Harry only looked at him expectantly. “When I’ve heard, I mean, I didn’t know whether to be shocked or not. Breaking the rules, managing to get a private dormitory for yourself! Of course, it’s my fault entirely.” Lockhart sighed dramatically and Harry had to look around to see if he wasn’t being filmed for a prank show. “I have given you a _taste_ of it, I have given you the bug… Harry, Harry, Harry.” Lockhart reiterated and it was amazing how little he could move his lips and still show his brilliant smile entirely. “You got on the front page of a newspaper and you couldn’t wait to be in the centre of attention again, couldn’t you?”

            Harry blinked, because he still couldn’t understand what was going on.

            “Harry, you’ll have plenty of time when you’re older for all the fame and the girls, trust me.” Lockhart laughed and touched Harry again, but this time the boy put up a shield one millimetre above his clothes so he wouldn’t have to feel the man’s hands, and the teacher didn’t seem to notice. “You’re probably thinking ‘Sure, it’s easy for him to say that, he’s an internationally renowned wizard!’, but when I was twelve I was a bigger nobody than you are now. I mean, you already defeated You-Know-Who,” he pointed at the scar on Harry’s forehead and the boy refrained from stating that technically he was also internationally famous, more so than the wizard in front of him, “and while it’s not a five-time winner of _Witch Weekly’s_ Most-Charming-Smile Award, it’s a start, Harry, it’s a start.” he winked, like he was having an inside joke with the boy.

            “I didn’t do it for _exposure_ , it happened because…” Harry found his voice, but Lockhart waved him off.

            “Of course you did, Harry! Why else break the rules and do it your way if not for being more famous?” the man chuckled, but Harry had finally had enough.

            “When I say something, _Professor_ ,” Harry frowned and nearly spat the title, making the man look a bit shocked and slowly retreated his hand from the invisible barrier that he thought was Harry’s shoulder, “I would appreciate if you would let me finish explaining myself, so that I may present the best version of my side of events, lest you get the wrong impression of me, simply because your view of the matter is already set in stone. I did not set out _purposefully_ to receive special treatment, and I did not break any rules of the Hogwarts Charter, by accident or otherwise. _Furthermore_ …” at this he took a decisive step forward, channelling Snape as best he could, and Lockhart took a step back reflexively, eyeing the boy carefully. “I would appreciate if you could be more sensitive to the fact that I did not _seek_ out world-wide _fame_ , and the only reason people know me by name is because Lord Voldemort murdered my parents right before my eyes, tried to kill me and failed.” he continued with his onslaught, enjoying making Lockhart shiver at the name. “May I go to my class, Professor?” Harry made an impatient gesture.

            “Y-yes, Harry. I’m sure Pomona is expecting you.” Lockhart swallowed with trouble and dismissed the boy.

            He left without saying a word, fuming inside of his head. Who did Lockhart think he is, trying to install himself as some sort of _mentor_ in Harry’s life? He was behaving like Snape was in the beginning, only he was praising Harry for using his notoriety, not mocking him for it, and at least Snape got to know him enough that he knew Harry didn’t particularly enjoy or hate the fact that he was known, but he did hate it when people assumed he was _revelling_ in it, like his parents being killed was the best thing ever to happen to him.

            Right before he entered the greenhouses, his phone beeped and vibrated, and Harry reflexively answered the notification.

            Unknown: _It would seem that Lockhart is all you’d expect. But is he really?_

_-R_

            Harry’s breath got caught in his throat. He looked around to see if anyone was near him, but if this R sent him a message about a conversation he had a few minutes ago, they could’ve been long gone by now.

 

            “You know, it’s a bit odd that Sprout decided to teach us about Mandrakes, usually they’re a third-year subject.” Neville pondered later that day at lunch in the Great Hall.

             “Yes, that’s the weird thing here, not someone stalking Harry!” Hermione pipped in. “Also, don’t think I forgot how you addressed Professor Lockhart earlier! That was uncalled for! You’re lucky nobody else but us heard you!” she argued, but it was a big mistake.

            “No, what was uncalled for was grandstanding in front of students and making Professor Sprout seem like a second-rate Herbologist compared to him!” Neville raised his voice and dropped his spoon into his soup loudly, making the rest of the table jump in surprise, and Harry was suddenly reminded of a terrifying, hellish Neville standing up to a Dark Lord. “I don’t care why you seem to be a fan of him, Merlin knows why, but he was also completely rude and condescending to Harry, so I don’t appreciate you telling me to be nice to awful people when they don’t deserve it!”

            Silence. Neville’s outburst was completely out of left field, he was so wrathful and angry it came as a shock to everyone, but Hermione seemed completely _terrified_ of the boy. Harry wanted to intervene, say something, but it all dissipated before he could do anything.

            “I’m sorry, Hermione.” Neville sat lower in his seat and took his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I just got so angry at him, because I get enough condescending attitudes at home and I really respect Professor Sprout, and seeing her so hurt at his comments…”

            He didn’t need to say more. Hermione took him in her arms for a hug and patted his back affectionately, while everyone else stood by and watched awkwardly.

            “It’s alright, I forgive you. And I’m sorry for making you feel troubled. You are right.” she sighed, letting go of a teary-eyed Neville, facing everyone. “All of you. I admired Lockhart for the things that he did in his books, but failed to realise that the real wizard is actually pretty bad.”

            “Thank. Merlin!” Draco groaned, relieved.

 

            In the following weeks back at school, Harry and the gang fell into their normal pattern of their usual classes, only this time they were training nearly every day in the Gym Area to further harness their abilities. With a bit of shopping, Harry managed to create his idea of a designated firing area for Neville, since he couldn’t put up shields every single time the other boy wasn’t careful, and placed two 30 feet metal rings inside of the gym in which fire could exist without harm, one on the floor and one directly above it on the celling. The idea was that the rims of the rings would eliminate the oxygen completely only within their 3 feet width, thus making a make-up shield for any fire Neville launched. It was supposed to stop working once it detected living tissue on top of it, but Hannah pointed out that it could stop working if theoretically a fly could get inside and find itself above the oxygen-free area, making the rings stop working and Neville burning everything down, which was a good point, so Harry calibrated it with the help of Draco, setting the rings to only stop working when it detected people on it.

            Speaking of the blond boy, he was a natural at controlling water, more so now that he had the chance to do it so often. When he wasn’t working with Hermione to understand basic coding, he was often in his designated corner of the gym, namely the pool, trying out different ways to manipulate water according to his wishes. He usually soaked the surrounding area or dropped huge chunks of ice on it, so he was usually left alone. Getting a splash was one thing, getting pierced by deadly icicles was another, and while Harry contemplated investing in a metal line, like Neville’s rings, only this one would heat up when it detected water so it could vaporise it, Draco seemed infinitely more careful with his abilities, possibly because he had them nearly a year before the blue-eyed boy.

            This left Harry and the girls usually throwing a bunch of spells at each other, but were careful to steer clear of the more dangerous or dark ones. Harry wanted to experiment with all kinds of magic, but he thought the dummies were better suited for Cutting Curses, unlike Hermione or Hannah, who were human beings, prone to bleeding.

            “Here, you said you wanted to train your flying some more.” Hermione said one afternoon late October, approaching Harry with what seemed like purple bracelets, as wide as her palms, with big a rectangle protruding in the middle of each one.

            “I’m an excellent flyer, I’ll have you know.” Harry blew a raspberry, watching the rare occasion in which Neville and Draco went head to head in a water versus fire training.

            “Yes, I know, I was there when Flint kept praising you after your last Quidditch practise.” Hermione calmly responded. “Put these on.” she ordered, as Harry followed her lead and put two of the bracelets on his wrist. They clasped themselves like powerful magnets, shrinking a bit to perfectly mould on his skin, while Hermione put the other two on his ankles. “But you said you wanted to train your speed when you’re flying solo, so I got you these.” she said, taking back a few steps, while Hannah joined her, watching intently, and Harry got a bad feeling all of a sudden.

            “And they are…?” he raised an eyebrow, inspecting them.

            “Magical weights.” Hannah pipped in, while Hermione tinkered on her phone. “Usually they’re used when putting on muscle, like when you’re running or something like that, but since you’re usually flying and not putting up that much effort in, as you put it…” she trailed off, turning her head slowly toward Hermione, who raised her eyes from her phone to look at Harry, and the very tiny LEDs on the rectangles on the bracelets turned red with a ping.

            “We came up with the idea that since you’re used to lifting yourself up we should add a bit more weight to you, so that when you fly you work more on it, thus training your muscles _and_ your abilities, and since we can’t fatten you up on short notice…” Hermione explained, then got a devious smile and pressed something on her phone.

            The LED’s turned green with another ping, and Harry’s world blurred for half a second, as he landed on his back with his forearms, letting out a very big yelp. The girls didn’t help matters, as they were currently giggling at him, and the other two boys stopped what they were doing to laugh at Harry’s undignified scream.

            “I feel as if this is punishment, somehow.” Harry spoke a few seconds later, face red in embarrassment, looking at the lights on the tall celling.

            “Oh, it definitely is!” Hermione’s voice came, but Harry couldn’t look at her from his position. “That’s for teaching Neville to swear, you absolute potty mouth!” she took her revenge, which… wasn’t unfounded, given that after their first Defence lesson Neville called Lockhart a ‘giant arse-wipe with a shit-eating grin that begs for punches’ when he released Cornish Pixies on the unsuspecting class, and the poor boy found himself dangling from the chandelier because of it. The phrase used to describe the teacher, thankfully spoken in privacy, was not something Neville would’ve uttered if not for Harry and his tendency to drop f-bombs on occasion.

            “Yes, yes, I corrupted poor, innocent Neville Longbottom, and he now swears like a sailor!” Harry got frustrated with his current predicament. “Now would you at least lower the weight? What setting are you on, anyway?” he continued, as the bracelets beeped again and he was able to get off the ground, albeit his hands and feet still felt a bit heavy.

            “The highest, which is a tonne.” she replied without blinking.

            “I don’t have god-like strength, ‘Mione!” Harry screeched, outraged.

            “Not with that attitude, you won’t.” she said, nonplussed. “Now, they’re set for 1 kilogram each, which should be enough for the time being. It should distribute evenly about… now.” she declared, as Harry no longer felt the weight concentrated in his arms and legs, merely like his whole body gained a total mass of extra 4 kilograms. It was disorienting, feeling like his being was still virtually the same, only as if the gravitational pull of Earth suddenly raised on him alone.

            “This is literally the plot to Superman.” Harry realised, looking in awe at the girls for coming up with a clever solution.

            “Well, we couldn’t find you a planet orbiting around a giant red sun, so we just increased your mass in relativity to everything else to compensate, thus when you take them off, you’ll be that much stronger.” Hannah explained.

            “Did you go through my physics notes on Superman’s abilities?” Hermione turned her head with an incredulous look toward Hannah.

            “I was bored.” Hannah shrugged, at which Hermione blinked and turned to Harry, but he didn’t have an explanation either.

            Flying around was definitely more straining now that he had even more to carry around. He was slower and couldn’t remain in mid-air as much as before, but it was just the start. And with time, it would benefit him immensely. And he had an idea on how to speed up the process, although it wouldn’t be very easy.

 

            That Thursday, the five friends were currently in their Astronomy class, watching various planets and other cosmic masses in space with their telescopes, a concept which Harry found a bit boring, because firstly, he wasn’t very good at it, and secondly, he didn’t see the point of it. Sure, if he wanted to learn Alchemy in seventh year, this would be required along the other classes he was actually excelling at, but standing there, watching Uranus… or was that Neptune? He quickly deleted the last paragraphs on his notes when he realised he was watching the wrong planet _again_ , something Hermione would no doubt chide him for (“Really, Harry, how could you mix Venus and Mercury? They look completely different!”).

            Still, it wasn’t like he could completely fail the class, even though he felt like the worst student there. At least they weren’t asking him to calculate trajectories of comets and other space junk, like they did with fifth years, just measure stuff with simple equations. He heard a rumour that last year Pucey woke up in the middle of the night to mutter integrals and derivatives before his Astronomy O.W.L., which is why he was thankful that math was something he could understand, given sufficient time.

            Of course, _Draco_ , on the other hand, being an exemplary Black family member, _and_ named after a bloody constellation, had finished with his work earlier than even Hermione and was now quietly doing something else on his laptop. Sinistra didn’t seem to mind, because to her, as long as you understood what she taught and did your work, you were basically free to spend the remainder of your time in class as you wished, as long as you were polite about it. Hence why Hermione was doing something else as well, watching a documentary about wildlife in China with her headphones in. The Professor even peeked at her screen every once in a while, when she wasn’t touring the circular Observatory to help other students.

            It was nearly at the end of their class when suddenly somebody at the door knocked a few times, making many people jump in fright, breaking their concentration from their usually quiet time working. Sinistra herself looked a bit perplexed, but walked towards the door and answered nonetheless. Harry gazed at her intently, having an excuse to stop one-eying things at millions of kilometres away. It was a Slytherin Prefect, a new one from this year, whom Harry didn’t recognise, but he spoke in soft tones to Sinistra.

            “Harry?” the Professor turned to him, expectantly, which no one, lest of all Harry, could anticipate. “Professor Snape is asking for you.”

            “Oh.” Harry raised both of his eyebrows. “Really? Why?” he inquired further.

            “Didn’t say.” the Prefect shrugged. “Just asked me to escort you to his office.” he proclaimed as Sinistra’s phone pinged, likely receiving a message from the man himself.

            “Are you all done with your work, Harry?” the teacher asked.

            “Almost, I just need to finish some calculations and write the conclusion of the paper.” Harry admitted, still confused by what was happening, as were the rest of his classmates.

            “Just have it done by next time.” Sinistra waved him off. “I’ll send you the homework on email and ask Hermione to help with any notes you might need.”

            Deciding to not look a gift horse in the mouth, Harry gathered his things and went with the Prefect down to the dungeons, while sending a quick text to Scarheads that he will keep them posted with everything.

            Twenty minutes later they arrived in the familiar dungeons, and the Prefect left to do his rounds, as Harry knocked on Snape’s office and entered when bid. Inside, the man was busy with a bunch of cauldrons and potion ingredients, moving around with calculated gestures and occasionally dropping something in one cauldron, while stirring another with his wand.

            “Evening, Severus.” Harry swallowed, dreading to think what was the point of all this.

            “Potter.” the greeting came as monotone as ever. “Sorry to get you out of class, but there is something important I must to discuss with you.” the Potions Master announced, taking a break from all the concoctions in front of him, whipping his wand and making everything, except one cauldron and a small number of ingredients, move on another table.

            “Which is?” Harry waited for the other shoe to drop.

            “Are you aware of Lupin’s current predicament?” Snape asked, sitting down.

            “Did something happen to him?” Harry shouted worriedly. “Is he okay?”

            “Relax, nothing has happened to him, as of late.” Snape placated his student. “This is about something that happened long ago, but affects him today still.”

            “Wait…” Harry finally got it. “This is about Remus’ _lycanthropy_?” he made a face, eyeing Snape accusatorily.

            “So you are aware of it.” Snape continued.

            “Please, who are you talking to?” Harry said, crossing his arms.

            “A pestering brat.” Snape didn’t miss a beat.

            “A _smart_ pestering brat, Snape.” Harry sneered. “Jesus Christ, I thought something happened!” he drew his hand across his face, still angry at Snape.

            “I apologise.” the man blinked. “I did not intend to cause you distress, merely ask for your assistance in a matter related to Lupin’s problem.” he replied earnestly.

            “Fine, fine!” Harry sighed dramatically and walked towards the desk with an unamused expression. “What can I do to help?” he eyed the ingredients and the potion in the cauldron.

            “Since Lupin’s lycanthropy poses somewhat of a problem for the student and teacher body of Hogwarts…” Snape started, rising from his chair.

            “Define _somewhat_.” Harry looked up and raised an eyebrow at Snape.

            “Quite.” the man mimicked the expression and returned the sentiment. Remus was a very nice man and a very capable wizard to boot, but his werewolf side was still a danger if precautions weren’t taken. “It has been my duty to prevent his animalistic side getting the better of him and possibly hurting someone.”

            “So, this is the Wolfsbane Potion.” Harry continued, inspecting the cauldron carefully.

            “Correct.” Snape nodded, making certain movements with his wand and adding more ingredients. “I am the only Potion Master available for brewing, as it is quite complicated and expensive to do so. Dumbledore handles the costs, even though such a thing is straining for the budget of the school.” he made a sour face, but Harry quickly admonished him.

            “Don’t.” the boy warned. “This isn’t the thing to be stingy about.”

            “Very well.” Snape sighed. “The problem right now is that one of the key ingredients was late on arrival, because it wasn’t available in time, making this particular batch _unfinished_.” he continued.

            “And the full moon is in a few days. But where do I come in?” Harry asked the man. “You’ve never needed help with it before, and while I appreciate your confidence in my Potions skills, it still begs the question.”

            “While you’re more than adequate in my class,” Snape replied and Harry rolled his eyes, because adequate was downplaying it a bit, seeing as he was top three of his year, “it is not your potion making that I need here. Wolfsbane needs to mature properly so that the ingredients meld together _perfectly_. I usually have more on stock, with several cauldrons brewing just in case, but our supply of Moonstone ran out earlier than expected and it has been difficult obtaining it.”

            “Why?” Harry found himself asking.

            “You have asked me earlier to refrain myself.” Snape said sarcastically, which obviously meant that it was too expensive at the time.

            “Okay, so now you have it and it’s nearly done, just needs maturing. What do you need me for?” Harry ignored the jab.

            Snape drew in a breath and sagged his shoulders, looking down at the cauldron.

            “I need you to use your powers to _accelerate_ the process.” which… Huh?

            Time out. _What_?

            “I’m sorry?” Harry shook his head, thinking he heard him wrong. “You want me to use my magic to alter _time_?” he looked at Snape as if the man grew two heads.

            “Not _time_ itself, Potter, merely affect the potion on its own.” Snape rephrased his earlier request. “I do not believe you to be all-powerful, enough that you can change time by yourself, but you are capable of rather _exceptional_ talents that may help here.”

            “And exactly how…?” Harry gestured at the table, but couldn’t find the words to express his confusion.

            “You are able of moving things and making things happen with your magic, just by using your mind, correct?” Snape inquired, at which Harry nodded a bit hesitantly. “Well, given that you can do those things at such a young age on a very large scale, it makes you one powerful wizard, I have to painfully admit.” the man made a strange face. “While there are spells nowadays that can speed up the process of maturing potions, they are still not enough in this case, and it may also affect the Wolfsbane to the point where it becomes toxic.”

            “Because aconite is very dangerous and this particular brew has to be handled delicately?” Harry guessed, at which he received a nod. “So, in essence, I have to speed up the meshing of the ingredients with the aconite itself.”

            “Correct. I would not ask you if I didn’t think you were capable.” Snape admitted.

            “So, what, I manipulate the Brownian Motion?” Harry frowned. “That’s a rather delicate task.”

            “You can fling objects at the other side of a room with a gesture, but this is hard?” Snape asked, possibly even with genuine honesty.

            “That’s a far cry from altering their basic molecular composition, Severus!” Harry replied, whining a bit.

            “You’re not altering _anything_ in my potion, Potter, to do so would be catastrophic!” Snape jumped immediately. “All I ask is that you use your powers in a bit more _refined_ manner. It should be even easier, given the fact that the scale on which you use the magic has lowered significantly.”

            “That is presuming that I can even _feel_ the liquid at molecular level.” Harry clicked his tongue, but the possibility intrigued him.

            “Feel? You mean, when you use your magic like you do, you can feel it just like you are touching whatever you’re telekinetically manipulating?” the Professor inquired.

            “I get a _sense_ of it, like I am aware of its presence with my magic. It depends on what I am trying to feel, either it being an object, a person or an energy.” Harry explained, poorly.

            “Interesting…” Snape pondered.

            “Okay, I’ll try do it. Take a step back, just in case.” he warned as Snape followed his instruction. Harry raised his right hand above the cauldron, ready to continue, but stopped suddenly. “You have a spare brew, I hope?”

            “Of course.” Snape replied simply.

            Harry took in a few calming breaths and reached out with his magic, closing his eyes. He felt the cauldron immediately, as he would, with something he always thought was an extension of him, like an invisible force or a hand connected to his very being. But the liquid inside was what he was after, so he tried to go narrower and lower, but instead felt the bottom of the cauldron.

            ‘ _No, not lower. Deeper.’_ he thought to himself.

            He opened his eyes, concentrating on the substance. He felt it in his extended ‘hand’, like he just plunged his fingers inside of it, watery without being wet. Harry searched deeper inside of the liquid itself, finding small remains of still undissolved ingredients, but it wasn’t what he was after. He tried to connect with the potion further, grasping it fully, encapsulating inside his power. But he still only held the entire thing, rather than control it, manipulate it like he wanted to. So he went deeper still.

            All sound drowned out, except for a small vibration in Harry’s ears. His magic was loud and explosive, usually the sound of a huge reverbing engine, but now, concentrated so tightly on a level so small, it was barely audible. But it was there, meaning that it was working. He didn’t exactly feel every molecule like he supposed he would, but he felt the movement of the liquid inside of itself, at very small scales, when things bounced around and changed paths immediately, presumably because they hit other things. And while Harry didn’t feel them, he could feel the _force_ they left behind, like when a car goes by and you feel the air. And they were different energies, some felt bigger, others smaller, but they were all there, showing where different molecules of different ingredients moved. It was enough for Harry to form an idea. If he wasn’t able to feel molecules yet, maybe either because he wasn’t powerful enough at the moment or because he needed more time to find them, he could influence the force they used.

            He put more energy into the movement, and at first it was a bit in vain, because he couldn’t predict where the things would go to enhance them, there were beyond counting and the speed was too great in relativity. But then, adding even more power, just a smidge, it happened. He felt the movements going crazier than before, achieving speeds he couldn’t process with his human mind. The potion vibrated before his normal eyes, yet the entirety of it didn’t actually move, or stirred, and the flame beneath the cauldron was the same. It was as if someone pressed fast-forward on the cauldron and it was now acting faster than everything around it.

            Harry continued for a few more seconds, adding more power to his doing, stopping effectively when he felt that the forces the molecules left behind when moving began feeling more equal to each other, like the ingredients bonded completely with one another. His confirmation that his task was done came when the potion started emitting a slightly blue smoke.

            “Remarkable.” Snape breathed all of a sudden. “I daresay you managed to mature it enough that it will be viable in a few days, if not fully.”

            “It was a bit odd, though. But does this mean that if I get injured, like a cut or something, I can manipulate my cells into healing faster?” Harry wondered at the implications.

            “I would prefer if it remained a speculation for the time being, Potter.” Snape countered, with good reason. “What if you prematurely age parts of your body?” he continued, not waiting for a reply, but Harry had a stray thought that he could remedy that with the priceless magical artefact currently in his bedroom upstairs. “But thank you for your help. And I’m sure if Lupin was aware of your knowledge of things, he would thank you too. I trust I don’t have to tell you that not even your friends must know of his condition.”

            “Not my secret to tell.” Harry replied. “Also,” he said, taking out his phone and tapping quickly on it, sending a message to Snape. “Any and all expenses needed for future Wolfsbane potions can be billed on this account.” he declared, regarding Snape with a pointed look. “It’s mine, if you were wondering. Send me a list of the ingredients, I’ll see to that they’re cleared for automatic purchasing so I won’t have to approve them every time.”

            “Very generous of you. I take it the expense is no concern?” Snape looked strangely at Harry, a mix between admiration and surprise.

            “None whatsoever. And especially not in this case.” Harry stood firmly. “If Dumbledore asks, you can tell him the truth. But Remus can’t know.”

            “Very well, I shall email you the list of ingredients and suppliers.” Snape said with finality, caring for the potion.

            “Well, if that’s all… Then I wish you good night, Severus. See you in class.” Harry bid, turning on his heels.

            “Good night, Potter.” came the airily response behind him.

            Harry exited the Professor’s office, giddy with himself for managing such a feat. He spent the first two floors composing a text to his friends, explaining what he did, but being careful to leave out the parts that weren’t meant for them to know.

            Draco @Scarheads: _You do realise I could’ve helped better than you._

At which Harry wanted to slap himself, because of course he was right. Draco was a Water Elemental, he could’ve snapped his fingers and be done with it, not like Harry, who had to actually focus hard on doing it.

            Harry @Scarheads: _Just let me have this, will you? I manged to manipulate a liquid at cell level without being an Elemental._

            Draco just sent a bunch of laughing emojis, but this little interaction didn’t remove Harry’s sense of pride in his accomplishment. It had wondrous implications in the future. If he could fine tune this ability, if he could find a way to use his magic to _change_ something, rather than help it change along, he could have no need of ever remembering Transfiguration lessons altogether. The possibilities were…

           

            _“Come… Come to me… Let me rip you…”_

A disembodied voice was heard from somewhere, freezing Harry on the spot, phone in hand. He dared not look around at first, lest he came in contact with whatever _thing_ made that loud, whispery voice that ringed from thin air, like an invisible ghost with a murderous desire.

            But no one was there. Like before, there was no one next to, or around Harry. And yet, he heard it, clear as day.

            _“Let me skin you… Let me KILL you…!”_

 

            His phone beeped and displayed a text message notification.

            Unknown: _I would move if I were you._

_-R_

“What the fuck…” Harry breathed in utter horror and, not caring anymore who saw him, flew as fast as he could through the nearest window, opening it with his mind and soaring the night sky upwards, towards the balcony of the Room and to safety.

             

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, ya'll wanted ANOTHER twist? Dun-dun-dun!!! And I updated so soon, I surprised myself, really.
> 
> Did that feel in any way suspenseful? I sure hope it did. Just what is -R and what are their connections to Harry? And the basilisk makes an appearance (well, sort of), setting up the rest of this year's story, finally.
> 
> Ah, Neville growing a backbone and settling himself as a badass, a force to be reckoned with. There are things about him and his life at home that I will explore with further, because he is a troubled boy with lots to deal with, and his outburst at Hermione was just a fraction of that. But he has a support group, he has a family he can be himself with and with time and care, it will be easier. 
> 
> The pacing is a bit off, I admit, even though some might not even care or notice, but I concentrated on my own aspect of the plotline, rather than the original, dropping hints and things here and there at the original pace of the books or just dropping hints in general.
> 
> It's such a joy to write these characters and tapping into certain speech patterns and vocabularies for each of them, for so long, has finally brought a voice to them, at least for me. This fic could very well continue to be dialogue after dialogue, if my incessant need to deliver plots I have literally had in my mind for years didn't surface.
> 
> Until next time, when the writing on the wall is that much clearer. Literally.


	17. The Hidden Object

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds trouble, while Neville comes up with a plan of his own. With the help of strangers, the gang unearths something they wished for.

            It was a quiet evening for Hermione, Neville, Hannah and Draco, waiting for Harry to arrive from whatever task Snape had for him. They were writing their homework while something played on the board, making for background noise. Their phones pinged with a notification at the same time, meaning someone was chatting on their group messaging.

            Harry @Scarheads: _Everything’s fine. Snape needed my help with a potion for Pomfrey. I know, bloody shocking, Snape coming to me for help! But he needed me to mature the potion faster, and I did it! I made the cells composing the liquid move faster by adding my magic to the movements of the molecules, this way making the brew mature in no time! It was amazing! I’m heading up now, save some snacks for me, please. Looking at you, Draco._

Hermione gasped loudly.

            “He did _not_!” she yelled, looking at the others with eyes the size of dinner plates. “That’s impossible, he made _time_ go faster! He’s pulling one on us, I’m telling you!” she scoffed, obviously going through a lot of emotions all at once, making her hair frizzier.

            “He didn’t make time go faster, he’s not a Time Turner, Hermione.” Hannah placated her. “And it’s Harry, has he _once_ joked around like this, especially about his abilities? And they are strange, even in the wizarding world.”

            “Yes, and he just made the molecules of a liquid go faster by adding magic to them, it’s amazing, but not so impossible and out there.” Draco huffed, typing quickly.

            “Well, it’s not like you ever told Snape you’re an Elemental. Or anyone else, for that matter.” Neville said after reading Draco’s reply. “How would he know to ask _you_ for help?”

            “Oh, yeah.” Draco remembered, looking up, then making a mild expression. “Forgot about that.”

            “How can you be so quick-witted and so _dumb_ at the same time?” Hannah turned to the other blond and punctuated every word, like she was accusing him. “It’s like you turn off your brain selectively, or something.” she made a faint gesture with her hand.

            “I learned it from the best.” Draco made a wry smile, and mockingly kissed the air in her direction.

            “Ew!” she exclaimed, throwing a pillow at his head, but it only served to make him laugh.

            “But what if Harry speeds up the movements of the cells of something living?” Hermione jumped again.

            “Are you _still_ on that?” Draco pulled an unimpressed look.

            “Oh, what if he makes someone age faster?” Hermione gasped, truly distraught for some reason.

            “Pfft, please do.” Neville contemplated loudly, trying to finish his essay for Snape. Merlin’s balls, why were they so tricky? He wished Harry could get there already so that he might have some help, because Hermione was in no state to properly tutor him.

            “You don’t actually mean that.” Hermione looked positively _aghast_ at the notion, and Neville realised the other two were also eying him with curiosity.

            “I want puberty to hit me,” Neville responded, closing his eyes for a bit, resting his head on his chair, then regarding them back, “and I want it to hit me hard.” he admitted.

            “Kinky.” Hannah nodded to the side.

            “I mean, _look_ at me!” Neville continued, obviously having something on his mind. “I can’t wait to be rid of all this baby fat so that I can look in the mirror and _like_ what I see.”

            “Draco, be a dear and hand me that pillow.” Hermione said, with an unreadable expression on her face, stretching out a hand toward the other boy, while still gazing at Neville. A second later, pillow in hand, her face turned furious as she launched the object at the blue-eyed boy. _Hard_.

            “Ow! That really hurt!” Neville complained, rubbing his shoulder, where the pillow hit.

            “Neville Longbottom, you are twelve years old, the only body concerns you should have is that it’s healthy, not _sexy_!” said the girl, with a very serious tone, but her face started to fall apart when everyone else began laughing at the interaction.

           

            Their laughter died immediately, as the door to Harry’s bedroom swung open with a startling sound, making them all draw in a surprised breath and turning around to see what was the commotion about. Harry himself stood in the doorway, approaching them with fast steps, a look of horror plastered on his face.

            “Gaaahhhh -  what the… Harry?” Neville shouted during all of this, then jumped the second he saw the other boy, running toward him faster than everyone else. “What happened? Are you alright?” he continued, taking him by his arms and inspecting for any signs of hurting.

            “I’m not hurt, Nev.” Harry admitted, taking in breaths sporadically, like he had been running.

            “You _flew_ from the outside in?” Hermione realised, casting a glance at the open door behind him.

            “Something happened while I was on my way to you.” Harry regarded them and Neville released him as he made his way to the centre of the room. “I started hearing this… this _voice_ , coming from everywhere and nowhere in particular, but I heard it so clearly…”

            “Slow down, you’re not making any sense.” Hannah put a glass of water in his hands, which Harry downed as everyone settled around him, while he rested on the coffee table and someone paused the _True Scribble._

            “There was someone, or _something_ , whispering, but like really loudly, in a very horrifying way, just as I was climbing the stairs earlier.” Harry explained to the group. “It started speaking about maiming and killing… I don’t know, someone, possibly even me. I can’t describe how it sounded, just that it chilled me to the bone. And then, all of a sudden, I got a text message from _R_ , warning me to run away.”

            “Wait, _R_ told you to run away?” Hermione shook her head out of the daze.

            “Yeah.” Harry nodded, barely managing to catch his breath. “They said ‘I would run if I were you’. So, I did.”

            “And are we sure this is not just R playing a trick on you, somehow?” Draco tried to be the voice of reason, but Harry shook his head.

            “No. The other two texts were more tongue-in-cheek, like they were taunting me about things they know, but I don’t. This one was straight to the point. You think I’m crazy.” Harry said, looking at the worried expressions he was receiving.

            “Generally? Yes, but beside the point.” Draco kept it light. “No, if you said you heard something, you most likely did hear it.”

            “But what?” Neville looked at them in turns. “What could it have been?”

            “Whatever’s inside the Chamber of Secrets.” Hermione spoke before her brain could make the connection, then put a hand over her mouth in realisation of the horror.

            “You think so?” Harry had to ask, but the idea plagued him as well.

            “I believe so, yes.” Hermione nodded slightly, before sitting down with her face in her hands. “Oh, God, what do we do?” she wailed, sound slightly muffled.

            “What _can_ we do?” Hannah agreed while comforting Hermione. “We don’t even know what it could be.”

            “Whatever it is, it’s alive and dangerous.” Draco shuddered.

            “More like _sentient_ and dangerous.” Harry corrected him. “It’s been locked away for a thousand years and this is the second time in recorded history that it got out, do you really think that, whatever it is, it’s still _alive_?”

            At which point, everyone got into dark thoughts. This creature, that could kill all of them, was possibly the most dangerous thing they could encounter, and there was a high chance it wasn’t even living. How do you stop something _undead_?

            “Harry…” Neville realised. “Harry, you said it was going to kill.” he stared in terror.

            Time stopped for a second, before the words dawned on everyone. It was as if someone had sucked all of the oxygen in the room and dumped them all in cold water.

            “Oh my god…” Harry stood up slowly, glancing at the door then back at everyone. “I was so scared, I didn’t even think… We have to go out there, what if it…?”

            “Harry, _no_!” Hermione jumped in the nick of time from her seat, catching him by the arm to prevent him from doing something idiotic. “You can’t go back out there! We don’t know what it is or how we can stop it!”

            “I can’t just let it kill someone!” Harry shouted. “I ran away like a coward and now someone is in danger!”

            “And now you want to be _stupid_ and get yourself killed, and you won’t be able to stop it then!” Hermione shouted back with full force, gripping Harry tighter, like a plea.

            “I can’t just do nothing!” Harry freed his arm forcefully.

            “I’m not saying you do nothing, I’m saying to think this through!” Hermione took a step further. “Get Snape to issue a school-wide alert to get everyone in the dormitories.” she continued, grabbing Harry’s phone from his pocket and placing it in his hands.

            Trembling with adrenaline, Harry barely managed to call Snape’s number, swearing in his head for every ring that sounded off in his ear.

            “Severus?” he said desperately the second the man answered. “Severus, I need you to get out a message to the whole school, make everyone still out on the corridors get back in their dorms! I think whatever Lucius Malfoy has planned is now in action, something happened on my way back. No, I’m fine, just do it! Please!” Harry spoke in his phone, before ending the call.

            Ten seconds. Ten seconds that passed like eons, waiting for something to happen, tension rising in the air with each passing moment, each one more daunting than the other.

             In those precious seconds, someone could’ve been drawing their last breath, pleading for mercy at whatever horror lied deep within the Chamber. Would they be in pain? Would they suffer? Would they live? Would they be saved? Or would they die terribly at the hands of something unspeakable and unknown, something made to instil violence and spread hatred towards people born of lesser lineages. Which one of them would it be? Which face would Harry never see in the hallways or in class? Someone he knew, even? Would that child’s parents ever recover? Would the world ever mourn them?

            Then, like a miracle, Snape actually listened to Harry, as all of their phones sounded off, and the Potion’s teacher voice was heard faintly from the hallways, through the loudspeakers.

 

            _“Due to a large spillage of toxic ingredients in the Repository, all students and teachers must return to their respective dormitories, until the situation is resolved, effective immediately. Until further notice, everyone is to remain safely within the confines of their dormitory.”_

 

The message repeated itself a few times, as everyone blew out a collective breath.

            “That was brilliant of him.” Draco sat down. “There have been accidents down in the Repository before, so this is something no one will question him about, seeing as he’s the only one equipped to deal with it. Not even Dumbledore would say anything on the subject.”

            But Harry wasn’t fully relieved, because there could be people still out and far away from their dorms, far enough that the disembodied monster could reach them. He hoped it was enough, but his mind spun around, imagining all sorts of beasts attacking someone innocent, out for a stroll, or a snog with a loved one.

            “Security system is still online, everything seems good for now.” Hermione said, changing windows on the board to show their cameras and detectors around the corridor outside, and the entrance to the Room clicked audibly, with numerous locks appearing on the double doors, basically fortifying them in. Harry saw in front of him how the balcony windows closed and barred themselves on both sides.

            Harry’s phone pinged yet again, but he didn’t have to wonder for long who it was.

            Unknown: _A bit extra, but it does get a point across. But the same trick rarely works twice._

_-R_

“Is that a threat or another antagonistically worded warning?” Neville peered behind Harry.

            “Both, I feel.” Harry pondered, not sure what to make of his stalker.

 

            It was late at night, after the scare died down and everyone relaxed enough that they could at least open the windows. Harry was sitting on his bed cross-legged, refreshing the news section of the Hogwarts page on his laptop every few minutes, watching intently. The wind blew softly through the curtains, making for the only noise in the room, save for the occasional tap of the F5 button on the keyboard. Harry breathed so quietly, and his heart was either slowed down or going so fast he didn’t even hear the blood in his ears.

            It was as if he thought that by making more sound it would change everything, that someone would end up being hurt anyway, that the second he dared to breathe louder the news page would refresh, an alert being posted, that someone died and it was his fault.

            There was a knock, so soft and faint he thought he might’ve imagined it if he didn’t reach out with his magic to peer out the door.

            “Come in.” he said hoarsely, throat dry as a desert.

            Neville opened the door slowly, two glasses of orange juice in both hands, dressed in a white shirt and dark blue pants, bare feet sticking to the floor.

            “Couldn’t sleep either?” he asked, sitting down across from Harry, who was still checking the screen.

            “No. Thanks.” Harry replied as Neville offered him the other glass, and drank half the contents. He didn’t even realise how thirsty he was. “I keep waiting for something to happen, anything.” he confessed.

            “Like they are going to post anything on the news page about someone getting hurt.” Neville tutted.

            “Not in those words, but if another safety bulletin is made, then it will end up here, and I’ll know something has happened.” Harry explained, refreshing the page for the thousandth time.

            “If someone got hurt, then it’s not your fault, Harry, you know that.” Neville tried to calm him, but to no avail.

            “How could it not be?” Harry raised his eyes and met Neville’s, staring back at him with concern. “I keep talking about doing something, about protecting this school, I even managed to get _permission_ to do it as long as I’m careful, and the second I got scared, I ran away.” the boy shamefully described.

            “Hey…” Neville placed his hand on Harry’s, preventing the other boy from refreshing the site. “It’s not your fault, Harry. You can’t be expected to protect everyone. Besides, you sent out an alert, you made everyone get back to their dorms. You didn’t run away, you changed tactics.”

            “Only because Hermione pointed it out.” Harry reminded him. “If not for her, I would be out there, searching the halls.”

            “And Snape issued the emergency message only because you made him trust you. Hermione might’ve had the right idea, but it wasn’t possible without you.” Neville, ever the voice of wisdom, rubbed a thumb on the back of Harry’s palm, sending flutters down the other boy’s nerves.

            “I was so scared, Neville.” Harry broke down, tears forming in his eyes. “I was so terrified of it, you didn’t hear it, it was absolutely _horrible_ …”

            “I know, I know, shhh…” Neville moved next to Harry to hold him. “It’s alright now. But if you’re so scared, what chance to we have?” he joked, a bit morbidly, but it did make Harry chuckle.

            “We have to stop it. Whatever it is. And next time I can’t be frozen, because someone might end up getting hurt.” Harry calmed down. “All this training can’t prepare us for it, it’s not enough.” he dejectedly sighed.

            “I think I might have an idea about that.” Neville clicked his tongue and smiled, full of mischief, taking the laptop and typing on it. “I was looking up training programs online this week, and I got a bunch of results about gyms and stuff like that, but we already had it, then I searched about instructors, then I realised we can’t do that, but then…” Neville finally showed Harry what he found.

            The raven-haired boy dropped his jaw and bore his eyes into the screen comically.

            “This isn’t real.” he breathed, going through a lot of denial. “There is no way the wizarding world is this advanced yet.”

            “You’d be surprised.” Neville chuckled. “There are all sorts of things we adapted from Muggle fiction and made real with magic.”

            “I know, but _this_? I can’t with this, Nev!” he pointed at the screen. “It’s straight out of science-fiction!”

            “But it’s _real_ , Harry!” Neville excitedly countered. “I checked all the facts, the inventor is making this stuff for a whole lot of uses eventually, but I’ve seen it written that the Ministry commissioned and backed this project for their Auror program. Of course, it’s not available to the general public, won’t be for several years, and it’s mostly a prototype.”

            “But how can we get our hands on actual military grade, high-tech training programs?” Harry asked. “It’s not like we can just waltz in this guy’s lab and ask him nicely to give it to us.”

            “Well, I wasn’t thinking about _waltzing_ , really, but getting in touch with him wouldn’t hurt. I mean, you’re the Boy-Who-Lived!” Neville exclaimed. “If you talk to this Herbert guy, I’m sure he will be more than happy to help.” he continued, but then his excitement died down. “Although, I’m not sure he would give it to you for free, it is his life’s work after all, and I know you have a lot of money available, but I don’t think it’s going to even come close to a fraction.” Neville scratched the back of his head lamely.

            Harry smiled out of the right corner of his mouth, then made the heavy cube under his bead fly out in his hands. It was a dark red object, with numerous golden lines that circled around themselves intricately and delicately, protruding out slightly. But it had no keyhole, or any other clues that it wasn’t just a big decorated block. Harry placed his magicked fingers on top of it, deactivating the mountain of protections on it, and the box created a line near the top, showing the lid, which then opened by itself, once Harry retreated his hand. The back of the lid was something like a small pillow, a darker shade than the cube’s colour. Inside, protected neatly by five other pillows, was the most dangerous and powerful magical artefact known to the wizarding world.

            “I think we can manage the financial aspect.” Harry said, taking the Philosopher’s Stone out with a gesture of his fingers and twirled it around in the air. Neville began having the same sly smile as Harry.

           

            Several hours later, a very tired and tense Harry was trying to pay attention to Sinistra’s teaching during their theoretical Astronomy lesson, and while she was a complete opposite of Binns, Harry still feel like falling asleep during her lesson, like he did during History of Magic earlier. If it wasn’t for Hermione occasionally poking him in his sides he would’ve passed out long ago. It was definitely a saving grace when the bell finally rang, jolting some energy in his system, signalling the end of a very long week.

            “I can’t believe you stayed up all night waiting for something bad to happen.” Hannah said as they made their way to the Room, where Harry wanted to crash and sleep the whole weekend. “Puts a strain on your body, let me tell you.”

            “I know, I know, I was just worried. Thankfully, no one was hurt, but next time…” Harry blinked, trying to stay awake.

            “Potter!” someone called him, and the five friends turned to see Filch, of all people, trying to run towards the group, but his bad leg made him look ridiculous trying. “I’ve got you now, you brat!”

            “Whatever is this about, Mr. Filch?” Harry sighed and addressed the man with a tired attitude.

            “I know you’re behind the incident in the Repository last night! Professor Snape told me he saw you on the security footage! Thought you could get away with it, you sneaky little pest?” the old man smiled his incredibly awful smile.

            Harry pondered for a second, because this was decidedly odd. Why would Snape implicate Harry in something that didn’t even happen? Unless it did happen, because Snape was Snape, a master in distraction and lies, and actually made an accident happen in the Repository to make it more believable. Only, Argus Filch being Argus Filch, couldn’t resist buggering his nose into this, because A: he most likely had to clean up whatever mess Snape made as a cover-up, down in that ingredient and equipment filled room, and B: Filch equated accidents with opportunities to punish children, because he was an old man with a lot of anger, and taking it out on defenceless children was his way of gaining pleasure. And so, when asked, Snape couldn’t very well show the security footage of him doing the deed, or would be believed if he said he did it, because no one in their right mind would think a Potion Master was clumsy, thus making Harry the culprit. It wasn’t _technically_ a lie, as the boy was ultimately responsible for the incident. He had hoped that Snape billing him for the damage would be enough in return. But apparently not.

            “It was an accident and I ran away to get Professor Snape’s help, which is why he knows it was me, not by viewing footage.” Harry rolled his eyes.

            “Oh, yeah? Well, I’m not letting you get away scot free!” Filch spat.

            “I am paying for the damages, with interest.” Harry shrugged, wanting to get away from the man already.

            “Well, that is not enough! I had to scrub your mess until morning! Come with me!” the man yelled, making a motion to grab Harry with his hand, but the boy, much faster than the older man, and now fully awake, grabbed him by the wrist forcefully, shocking Filch entirely.

            “I know well enough where your office is, and I will _willingly_ accompany you there, but I will be escorted _without_ the manhandling, thank you!” Harry spoke angrily, letting Filch’s hand go. It probably wasn’t the best decision, but Harry knew how Filch liked to drag students to his office for writing down punishments, and since he could hurt them, he could at least enjoy the way they squirmed in his hand when he caught them. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

            “Why, you little…!” Filch’s wrath was building up, but Draco went up to them both, intervening for Filch’s sake more than Harry’s, because a tired Harry was not to be messed with.

            “Careful now, _Filch_ …” Draco eased into his pompous arse persona. “One more word and I will personally see that Father talks to the rest of the Board of Governors to send you packing for conduct unbecoming.” he sneered at the man, and the threat was effective.

            Filch was having an internal battle with himself, wanting to curse out, do something in retribution, because barely any student stood up to him, but the prospect of being fired by one of the richer brats loomed over him, and so he composed himself.

            “Right this way, Mr. Potter.” Filch gritted through his teeth, veins at the temples becoming more evident, indicating the way with his arm.

            “Thank you, Mr. Filch.” Harry said with false politeness, as he began walking. “I’ll see you all later, okay?” he said to his friends, who nodded and went on their way, discussing amongst themselves and throwing the caretaker dark looks.

            Harry walked quietly to the office, but the same could not be said for the old man, who was muttering dark threats under his breath all the while. The boy didn’t particularly care what he was saying, so he paid him no mind as they reached the door with the infamously long list of things banned within the halls of the castle.

            Room 234-00, Argus Filch’s Office, codename Hell Lair, was a small room lit by exactly one lightbulb that smelled vaguely of fried fish. There were numerous cabinets, possibly filed with files of various misdeeds of the student body over the years, and there was one titled ‘Confiscated and Highly Dangerous’. In the opposite corner of that, above a cat’s pillow, was a pair of silver shackles on the wall, with a long chain connecting them, looking more clean and polished than anything else in the room. It was an open secret that Filch longed for the days where he could hang students by their ankles in the dungeon, and Harry was thankful for Dumbledore’s continued refusal of such a thing, because if the caretaker ever tried to do _that_ to him, he would’ve found himself being strangled by the chains.

            Harry shook the very violent image out of his head as Filch went to the desk and pulled out a template file to write in. Clearly, the lack of sleep didn’t suit him. He sat down in the only other chair in the room, across from the dingy old man, waiting for this to end.

            “Name… Harry…” Filch started to write.

            “ _Harrison_.” Harry corrected him and Filch looked up with a strange twinkle in his eyes. “Yes, I know, it’s weird, literally nobody knows how it came to say on my birth certificate ‘Harrison’, but it’s right up there with ‘James Potter’ on the end.” he added lightly.

            Filch continued to look at him for a second, before resuming.

            “ _Harrison_ James Potter… Occupation…” at this the man paused for a second, and Harry peeked at the paper, trying to read it upside-down.

            “Second-year student.” he supplied.

            “Quiet!” Filch admonished him, but continued to write what Harry dictated. “Second-year student… House?”

            Harry, who was now looking around the room to try to understand Filch’s character better, having little to do, noticed the lack of sound only a few seconds later, when he realised it was actually a question.

            “Oh, you’re joking.” Harry pulled a face. “You can’t be actually asking me that, like you weren’t there last year when I made the entire Great Hall go silent during my Sorting.”

            “House?” Filch repeated a bit more firmly.

            “The insignia on my robes didn’t give it away?” Harry rolled his eyes and groaned.

            Filch actually deigned to look at Harry for more than one second, studying him, before putting down ‘Slytherin’ on the paper.

            “Crime…” the man continued.

            “Misdemeanour.” Harry corrected, scrolling on his phone, something that no doubt made Filch want to confiscate it from his hands.

            “It says crime, here, Potter.” Filch retorted.

            “Well that can’t be right, otherwise I would be in prison, not your office.” Harry commented with impertinence.

            “Why don’t you write it then, if you’re so bloody clever?” Filch lost his patience, but Harry saw an opportunity for escape.

            “May I?” the boy took the paper without waiting for a response, and took out his pen Hermione gave him from his bag and started writing, in a much neater and faster fashion than the one before. “Misdemeanour: public disturbance, destruction of school supplies. Time: 10:15, October 18th, 2012. Suggested punishment… well, I would say a few hours of detention should do it, but that’s not my call here.” he said, raising his gaze at Filch.

            The man opened his mouth to say something, possibly insult Harry, but a loud crash in the hallway, followed by a maniacal laugh and terrified screams stopped him.

            “PEEVES!” Filch shouted and ran out the door immediately, leaving Harry alone in his office.

            “Hey!” the boy called after the man, but he had more important things to do than punish Harry at the moment.

            Resigned, Harry sat back in his seat and waited, as faint shouts on the hallway played in the background. He continued to look around, his eyes landing straight to the locked cabinet with confiscated objects. Thinking he had nothing to lose, he decided to venture and look through it. It was easy enough to open, ironically. One would think it would be under severe protections spells, if someone as paranoid as Filch had it, but just a bit of magic from Harry unlocked the ordinary key mechanism. It wasn’t bigger on the inside, like he had expected, and there was a bunch of trash in there, prank objects and other illegal things that would never work again or were beyond expired. Harry made a disapproving face, thinking it was a waste of time that he did this, but something on the bottom drew his eye.

            The strangest thing, having a black square with a metal part on top, which had a small window cut out, and a metal circle in the middle of the thing, same colour and composition as the, as Harry found out, sliding part on top. On the back, on a piece of paper stuck on it, was something written in black sharpie:

            “M.M., by W, M, Pd and Pg; now saved.” Harry read out loud to himself.

            It was interesting enough that Harry’s curiosity got the better of him, and tucked it in his robes quickly, deciding postpone to feeling of guilt about stealing something that didn’t belong to him in the slightest. He would justify it as revenge for Filch’s attitude towards him and punishing Harry for an accident, albeit a fake one, even though aunt Petunia would have his head for something like this. But the object intrigued him, and the faint whisper of powerful magic inside of it made him all the more curious about it, damn the consequences. And it’s not like Filch ever cleared out the cabinet, judging by the lack of attention to it and the finger-deep dust inside, so he wouldn’t miss it.

            He sat back down on the chair he was supposed to sit the entire time, but it seemed like his rummaging through Filch’s things wasn’t over. In the corner, nearly hid by some papers about this and that, was a moving picture, wild and colourful. Harry made it come closer with a short wiggle of his fingers.

            It was a pamphlet, although a very explosive one, with different fonts that didn’t quite match, colours that clashed and text that was either too small or too large. The title read ‘Kwikspell’, and Harry would soon learn what that was. The text described the company that provided instructions and lessons for adult wizards who had trouble with spells in their later stages of life, and then numerous accounts from funnily named people of how Kwikspell changed their life for the better. Harry wanted to laugh, because it was like a written infomercial, but then he slowly made the realisation.

            There was a letter from the company near where Harry found the pamphlet, a very sleek and professional one, unlike the crazy marketing item in his hands, addressed to the owner of the office. But Harry didn’t need to open it to know what were the contents of said letter, because it looked nothing like the signing-up packages showed in the pamphlet. It was in that moment he realised exactly how sad Filch’s life was.

            “What do you think you’re doing?” came the caretaker’s voice in the doorway, taking Harry by surprise. He looked at what the man was staring at, the incriminating evidence still in his hands.

            “I’m sorry, I didn’t…” Harry scrambled to apologise for his immense break of privacy.

            “OUT! OUT OF MY OFFICE! _NOW_!” the man roared, and Harry didn’t wait for a reprisal, tossing the pamphlet back on the desk, and passing a trembling Filch on his way out. He did, however, made the paper with his punishment silently follow him, floating just a fraction above the floor while Filch watched him leave, making it turn a right as he did, and grabbing it the second the door was closed loudly in his tracks.

            Ripping the paper to shreds, thinking it was the least of Filch’s concerns right about now, Harry made his way hurriedly to the seventh floor, passing the ballerina troll and entering through the doors of the Room without so much as a thought.

            “You’re back early.” Draco noted as he stopped on his way to his seat, a bag of chips in his hands, while the other three were already on the sofa. “So, will you be finished with your detention in time for your graduation in five and a half years, or…?” the blond joked as he joined the others.

            “Managed to get out of it.” Harry said cryptically, showing the paper-shreds still in his fist. “Neville, if you could be a dear?” he motioned with his head as he walked to the fireplace that Hannah insisted upon having, tossing the shreds on the wood, and Neville pointed his finger at them, gun-style, shooting a wisp of fire that started to burn the logs immediately. “But that doesn’t matter, I found…” Harry started, but something drew his eye next to the door to the gym. “Wait, what’s Hedwig doing here?” he pointed lamely at his snowy owl, who was patiently awaiting on a newly appeared perch, making everyone turn to her, like they forgot she was there.

            “Oh, she arrived with something for you.” Hermione remembered, sitting back. “But she wouldn’t let us open it, so she just sat there, waiting for you. And I swear _she_ made the owl perch appear, because it wasn’t one of us!” she gestured, almost hitting Hannah in the ear.

            “Well, that’s because she is a smart girl, and she knows that you going through my mail is illegal.” Harry punctuated, walking towards Hedwig. “Isn’t that right, girl?” he brushed his hands against her soft feathers as she closed her eyes and did something akin to a nod. “I’ll take this, thank you.” he unwrapped the string attached her leg, and took the small box she was carrying. “Um, you do know you’re missing a few parts to this perch, right?” Harry gazed at the simple golden pole that started with a flat, circular bottom and ended with a hoop at the top part.

            Hedwig actually look down and around herself, as if inspecting thoroughly, and then looked back at Harry’s expectant smile, made a low screech, and the makeshift pole expanded to include a place for droppings, and extended a bar upwards with to circular bowls coming from it.

            “There’s a good girl. Here, for your trouble.” Harry chuckled as he got his owl treats from his bag and placed them in one of the bowls, making Hedwig hoot happily. “I don’t seem to have any water on me, for some reason…” Harry rummaged through his bag, but coming up short. “Draco, could you please…?” Harry turned to the gathering that was watching the _True Scribble_ intently.

            Draco, still watching the screen, whipped his fingers lazily, drawing water from the glass in front of him and sending it on its way. The next second found Harry being hit straight in the face with a tendril of water, the resulting splash hitting hard on its unintended target and slightly on his owl, who gave a surprise screech, then yelled with disappointment. Harry didn’t even have time to get his hand out of his bag.

            “Rule number ninety-six!” Harry clicked his tongue in frustration, blinking rapidly to protect his eyes, as hundreds of drops fell everywhere on his face. “ _Aim_!”

            “Wha- Bwahahahaha!” Draco turned in confusion, mouth full of his chips, then descending into an enormous fit of laughter upon seeing Harry’s angry face, and everyone else followed suite.

            “Oh, haha, so funny.” Harry mockingly laughed, drying himself with a spell, as Hedwig ruffled her feathers in an effort with similar goals. “How about we look where we’re shooting, next time?” he added sarcastically.

            “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I –” Draco tried, but his laughter got the better of him, and it resumed for a few more seconds, before he started to slightly cough in his throat, trying to keep his uneaten food from going the wrong way. “Hey!” he said with a strained voice, as Harry made the glass of water the blond was reaching for fly out into his hands.

            “You can choke.” Harry dryly added, as he poured the water carefully in the second bowl, and he caught Neville in the corner of his eye, shooting him an unimpressed look as he got to the water-cooler and got another glass for the coughing boy on the sofa. “How did Hedwig get in here, anyway?” he remembered as he joined the others and Draco’s coughing subsided.

            “Through the window?” Hannah supplied, unhelpfully.

            “Getting past the security of the Room? I mean, it’s Hedwig for god’s sakes, so it’s not a problem, but owls getting here unannounced is of some concern.” he pondered as he opened the package.

            “How?” Draco managed to say.

            “Imagine Voldemort sending me a cursed letter or something.” Harry sighed, taking out the small flash-drive and inspecting it.

            “Is that the new upgrade for the _True Scribble_?” Hermione nearly jumped out of her seat and Draco followed suite.

            “Yep.” Harry chuckled as he paused the board and went to the side, where the external ports were. “Bigger screen, higher resolution, smaller margins… you know, the works.” he waved off as the device changed before their eyes when the USB device plugged in. “Finally, it took them long enough to mail this.” he sighed, taking out the now useless drive. “This is also supposed to fix some of the touchscreen and air-gestures issues we’ve been having with the pen. Which now resides in… Aha!” he declared, fumbling for the _Scribble Pen_ ’s housing, which was now on the bottom left. It vibrated slightly in his hand, and as Harry moved in front of the board, he moved his hand in the air with it to change windows. “So that’s what a finished product should look like. They rushed the first version, let me tell you.” he laughed with the others.

            “Brilliant!” Hannah cooed. “Now I can watch my shows properly!”

            “You do know your laptop has the same screen resolution as…” Draco said, but Hannah talked over him.

            “I said properly!” she shrieked comically over the boy.

            “Harry, what’s this?” Neville asked, and everyone turned to him to see the boy holding what Harry stole from Filch’s office, which likely fell out of his pockets when he sat down. The blue-eyed boy must’ve seen it on the chair when Harry got up.

            “Oh, I nearly forgot!” Harry exclaimed, forgetting about the board and walking over to Neville in front of his chair. “I found _this_ in Filch’s office!” he turned to the rest, taking the object from Neville’s fingers and showing it off.

            “You mean you stole that.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Harry! You were already there because you got in trouble…!”

            “ _Fake_ trouble.” Harry wanted to point out.

            “Why would you take that from Filch’s cabinets?” the girl continued like nothing happened, shooting a concerned look at her friend. “What’s gotten into you?”

            “Let him off this one, yeah, Hermione?” Hannah puffed, impressed with Harry’s kleptomaniacal side. “Filch deserves is for being a git.” she crossed her arms and winked at Harry.

            “God knows you’re right, Han, but there are other ways to get back at the caretaker _without_ getting into obvious trouble.” Hermione agreed with her somewhat.

            “It’s not like he’s going to miss it. Trust me on that.” Harry laughed. “Still don’t know what it is, or what it’s supposed to do. Doesn’t warrant a ‘Highly Dangerous’ classification to me, it’s just a lump of plastic.” he turned it over, inspecting the note once more, but it revealed nothing more.

            “I think I’ve seen something like this before, but I don’t know where.” Draco pondered, taking a closer look at the object. “Looks like the ‘save’ option, doesn’t it? From older versions of office programs, I mean.”

            “You’re joking.” Hermione looked at them like they were nuts, and the feeling was mutual for the other four, staring right back at her. “You’re seriously joking right now, right?” she laughed incredulously.

            “You _know_ what this is?” Neville figured her out as she walked towards them.

            “It’s a floppy disk, _people_! Honestly! You’d think you were born last year!” she groaned, taking the disk from Harry’s hands.

            “So that’s what it looks like? I’ve never actually seen one before.” Harry admitted, a bit stunned.

            “Look, I know they started to become obsolete during the year we were born, but it’s impossible that the Dursleys didn’t have – Hey!” Hermione continued in disbelief, but then interrupted herself when Draco flicked the disk with his fingers and the girl reflexively moved it away from him.

            “Doesn’t seem that floppy to me.” Draco shrugged nonchalantly.

            “Well, no, it wouldn’t be.” Hermione looked at him pointedly. “This is later model of the floppy disk, with a harder casing. The magnetic band on the inside, which holds data, is the one that is _flexible_.” she explained to the rest.

            “Look at it! It’s massive! How much do you think is on there?” Hannah exclaimed, huddling close along with the rest, as Hermione held it up.

            “Actually, since computers and data storage started from room-sized machines, it doesn’t have that much on it, by today standards.” the bushy-haired girl revealed. “This thing holds up to approximately 1.44 megabytes of data on it.”

            “Pfft, great, I can store half a picture that my phone takes on it.” the blonde huffed.

            “Remember, this is a wizard’s or witch’s disk.” Harry speculated as Hermione inspected the back. “It could be spelled to have a higher storage space.”

            “Doubtful, as those types of spells only came into existence over the last few years, but anything’s possible.” Draco clicked his tongue, looking over Hermione’s shoulder. “M, W, Pd and Pg? Who do you think they are?”

            “Trouble, given that it was in Filch’s office, under lock and key.” Neville said. “This belongs to former students who left it here when they graduated.”

            “Breaking and entering on top of burglary? Really?” Hermione shot a tired look at Harry.

            “I think the action of thievery implies a break-in, but not all break-ins are burglaries.” Neville spoke before Harry, defending him.

            “It’s a strange day when you get this insightful.” Draco chuckled at Neville, which earned him a raised eyebrow from the other boy.

            “Then it’s a strange day every day.” he declared. “Right, let’s pop it in, see what it does!” he took the disk from Hermione and Harry reflexively gave him the _Scribble Pen_ when the boy’s hand shot in front of him, wordlessly asking for it.

            “Uh, hello?” Hannah gestured with her hands. “Where, exactly? We don’t have a…” she turned to Hermione for help mid-sentence.

            “Floppy disk drive.” the girl rolled her eyes.

            “That. If this thing became extinct around twelve years ago, then it’s about impossible that we have the necessary systems for it just laying around!” Hannah continued her train of thought.

            “Maybe some older computers in the library?” Draco mused.

            “No, they’re all updated every few years, it’s mandatory.” Hannah shook his head at him.

            “We have the board, guys!” Neville finally revealed his plan, walking towards said board. “It’s a current tech version of the school’s board, right? And they all get hardware updates with software as well? Then it stands to reason that somewhere in it there’s an older model of it somewhere in its files!” he exclaimed, turning around and browsing the settings on it. “Let’s see… System, current version, available versions, revert to previous model… That’s it!” he said after a minute of fumbling around with the settings.

            “Uh… Neville?” Harry tried to warn him, but it was no avail.

            The boy selected the first model of the board, which made the device change yet again, only this time the screen and became smaller, more convex, the edges were thicker, and the back expanded to massive size, even though the board itself became smaller. The pen changed into a mouse connected to the device, and the board landed on the floor with a small thud. Overall, it looked like a huge, older computer, like the one the Dursleys had when Harry was little.

            “And to think a year ago you didn’t even know what Google was.” Harry blinked in surprise.

            “Uh…” Neville couldn’t find the right words, still holding the mouse with two buttons. “Well, it has a floppy disk drive now, but…” he pointed at a flap underneath the screen, which looked like it could hold the disk.

            “Great, now we’ve gone back to the late 90’s!” Hannah groaned, sitting down on the sofa.

            “It’s just for a few minutes!” the boy countered, although his cheeks were red.

            “But why can’t we just make the board in _current_ format open a port for it, instead of changing it _entirely_?” Hannah threw her hands in the air.

            Harry, Draco and Hermione all looked at each other inquisitively, weighing the blonde girl’s words.

            “We… _could_?” Draco said, unsure of himself. “There’s no reason why not.”

            “Alright, alright, stop with your technological elitism, it will revert back in a few seconds!” Neville placated everybody, pointing at the screen, which had a black and green window, asking if the user was sure of his current settings or would he like to revert to default, with a timer above it. Sure enough, after the countdown expired, the _True Scribble_ changed back to its latest form, and Hannah blew a relieved breath.

            “Okay, then. Take two. Neville?” Harry declared as he took back the pen from the embarrassed boy. “Ports, ports… where are they? Ah. Found ‘em!” Harry exclaimed in triumph when he found a list of active ports on the side of the board and those that were available, but inactive. “Here we go…” he selected with the pen the floppy disk drive. “It’s asking me if _I’m sure_? Is this thing mocking me?” Harry intoned with complete outrage, voice going higher.

            “Just do it!” came four simultaneous shouts.

            “Al- _right_!” Harry turned back to them with a slightly exasperated look on his face to mirror theirs. “Bloody hell.” he muttered to himself and in the corner of his eye he saw Hedwig agreeing with him.

            The port became active a moment later, and not wasting any time, he plugged the floppy disk in, then stood back with the rest to view the screen.

            For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a smaller window appeared in the centre, like a command prompt, but they couldn’t discern what was written from the distance.

            “Stupid friggin’, two decades old technology, bloody _enhance_!” Draco rolled his eyes and shouted exasperatedly at the screen, which followed his command, and the window changed to fullscreen. “It has _voice_ commands?” Draco was taken aback.

            “Apparently.” Harry breathed, more concerned with what was displayed.

 

I solemnly swear that I am up to no good

__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__

 

            “That’s it?” Hannah made a face. “All this fuss for a declaration of mischief? Bugger this, I’d rather do Snape’s homework!” she huffed dismissively.

            “It’s obviously password protected.” Hermione realised. “It’s a code, formed of…” she trailed off, counting something with her finger at the screen. “32 characters in total, divided in blocks of two.”

            “Great, so were stuck.” Draco groaned. “There’s no possible way we can crack this without serious decoding programs.”

            “We could wing it.” Neville shrugged.

            “Right, that’s what, 36 at the power of 32 possibilities?” Draco shot him a look. “By all means, calculate exactly how much that is.” the blond deadpanned.

            “Too much.” Harry agreed. “But the sentence above has something to do with it, I’m sure of it.”

            “Yes, but what?” Hermione wondered as they sat down in their seats. “It can’t be that the password is just the letters above, that’s too obvious, and they’re one character short.”

            “We could just press ‘Enter’ and see if that works?” Hannah supplied, but as Harry followed up on her idea, gesturing with the pen, nothing happened. “Right, of course not.” she continued, dejected.

            “There must be a way…”  Harry stood up and walked towards it.

           

            The next second, everyone’s phones pinged at the same time, signalling a text message was just received. The friends all looked at each other in trepidation, some small part of their brains already supplying the answer to their next question.

            Unknown: _How many numbers in a letter?_

_-R_

“Great, now they have our numbers as well!” Hannah complained. “Where’s the block spam option?”

            “No, wait!” Hermione stopped her. “Look, I don’t like this more than do you, but so far, R has been helpful, if somewhat annoying. I think we can use this.”

            “I don’t trust anyone who hides behind a screen.” Draco countered. “Why should we listen to them? They could be against us and they’re just steering us into a false sense of trust. I know I would.” he continued, as everyone was suddenly reminded that Draco, at the end of the day, could be a brilliant schemer if he put his mind to it.

            “I concur.” Harry agreed. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt to use them right about now. If they are just pretending to help us, then we will deal with it later. Numbers in letters… What does that even mean?”

            “Wait…” Neville realised. “The back of the disk, it had the name and the authors on it, but they were initials.”

            “So? You think that the password is the initial of every word in the sentence?” Hannah pointed with her chin at the screen.

            “Not exactly.” Neville shook his head. “How many numbers in letters, remember? What if the password is made from the number of letters that form ‘I solemnly swear that I am up to no good’?” he said, already on a roll.

            “They’re still 31, Nev.” Hermione countered.

            “No, I mean the number of times a letter appears!” Neville responded. “You said the password is split in blocks of two characters, what if it’s how many times a certain letter is in the sentence?” he said with glee.

            Harry wondered for a second if he could be right, after all. It would certainly fit with R’s cryptic text message. Thinking he had nothing to lose if he tried, he took his laptop, connected the keyboard to the _True Scribble_ and started typing.

 

I solemnly swear that I am up to no good

2i-2s-5o-2l-2e-2m-2n-1y-1w-3a-1r-3t-1h-1u-1p-1g

 

            “Here goes nothing.” Harry declared and pressed enter, as everyone held their breath in anticipation.

            For a second, nothing still, making everyone feel like they failed. But then…

 

Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs proudly present

The Marauder’s Map

 

We congratulate you for either hacking this or being smart enough to figure it out. Please use this program entirely at your discretion. Any and all authoritative figures are forbidden from utilising this proprietary program.

Loading... Please wait.

 

            “Oh my god, you’re brilliant, Neville!” Hannah jumped the boy, hugging him fiercely.

            “I do try.” Neville laughed, still being squished by Hannah’s powerful arms.

            Harry laughed at their antics, but the fact remained that Neville was the first one to understand R’s message. If it came down to it, he was truly the wisest of them all, always thinking outside of the box, whereas Draco, Hermione and him were more inclined to use facts and Hannah to apply real-life logic.

            The screen then came to life, casting a faded out orange glow on them. They immediately stood up, all at the same time, to watch in awe what was displayed before them.

            It looked like a parchment, one stretched out from corner to corner on the screen, with numerous black lines intersecting with one another in a very calculated manner, either straight or circular, with names for whole sections, dotted lines appearing here and there from the continuous ones, going out into the blank space of the parchment, some reappearing, others going somewhere unseen.

            And then they were the name tags, hundreds of small pieces of parchment moving around in deliberate manners, with smaller footprints behind them, disappearing after the third pair. In the down right corner of the screen, there was a list of floors and places, but the one selected and active was: ‘Hogwarts Ground Floor’.

           

            “Holy shit.” Hannah breathed in realisation. “This is not possible.”

            “There is _no way_ that thing could’ve held so much on it, the amount of data alone…” Draco referred to the floppy disk.

            “I can’t believe this!” Neville gasped, putting a hand to his mouth.

            “Harry, do you realise what this is?!” Hermione shook him by the arm, but the boy was fixated on the _True Scribble_.

            “The map to Hogwarts. We finally have it!” Harry grinned from ear to ear, mind buzzing with possibilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE!
> 
> Bet you didn't see me coming a mile away. Truly, I was going to move the plot further along, but as it happens, dialogue and characterisation got in the way, and the characters did their own thing as always, so I had to press pause on the main plot for a second to set things up, because it got too long for it to reach where it wanted it to be, so I had to end it here. I know I said the writing on the wall gets clearer, and it did, in a way. Just the wall was the True Scribble. And now they have the digital version of the Marauder's Map! What happened to the hard copy of it, I wonder. Hm...
> 
> It was pure joy to go through Harry's emotions this chapter, the terror he felt at an unseen foe, the trepidation of someone being hurt, his anger and frustration about not being able to do anything, taking that out on Filch, his fear of failure making him lose sleep, his decision to rebel and steal; I am really making him go through a lot this time, because Quirrell was one thing, but this time it's more real, he knows something dangerous is in the school and people are in danger.
> 
> And them not knowing what a floppy disk was, I kept picturing my younger sister asking my father a few years back what were those strange CDs in his room, it was so funny. It's scary how rapidly technology evolves. And I touch on that next chapter, when Neville's plans come to light, and just in time.
> 
> See you all soon!


	18. The First Victim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets an upgrade just in time, as the stakes get higher.

            The map was everything Harry had wanted and more. Not only did it show the castle and hundreds of hidden locations, but it had a real-time placement of the people inside, where they were, who they were with and where they were going. It was certainly useful for when they needed to do their excursions after curfew and avoid people. No amount of detectors or cameras could help anticipate others in time, and the added bonus of shortcuts and passwords gave them a huge advantage over the rest of the student body.

             For the time being, it was restricted to the board, seeing as Hermione and Draco had trouble with transcribing the program into a version suited for mobile phones, and there was no internet guide for it. Whatever they did, they had to go in blind almost, doing it step by step. They had, however, managed to change the password into ‘I solemnly swear that I am up to no good’, because whoever came up with the number of letters in the sentence protection was well mad, and it was too complicated of a passkey to remember.

            But the excitement of happening upon the Marauder’s Map, whoever they were, was overshadowed by the coming to fruition of Neville’s plan.

            On Wednesday, October 31st, Harry received a large package, the second he sat down at dinner in the Great Hall, after a long day of school. Hedwig shot him a look of disapproval as she landed the well-wrapped box in his lap, stole some of his meat and flew off, possibly back to the Room, because she was there almost all the time she wasn’t out. Clearly, the Owlery didn’t suit her anymore, just like normal student dormitories didn’t suit her owner.

            Wasting no time, Harry ran off to the seventh floor with his horribly expensive package, to the surprise of everyone but Neville, who had to maintain a level of plausible deniability.

           

            It was nearly an hour later when the rest arrived back in the Room, and upon discovering that Harry wasn’t in the living or his own bedroom, Hermione walked with deciding steps to the gym, only to find the door firmly locked.

            “What?” she frowned, trying the doorknob a few more times before she banged the door. “Harry? Are you in there?” she shouted, but no response came. “What the bloody hell is he doing in the gym, with the door locked?” she turned to the others.

            “Touching himself, maybe?” Draco sighed, replying sarcastically.

            “He has his own room for that.” Hannah countered, seemingly over the theatrics.

            “You _know_ something.” Hermione stalked towards Neville, who had a hard time not stepping away from her in fear. “You didn’t seem that shocked when Harry received his mail today, and you’re certainly not questioning it now.” she continued, coming in face-to-face with the boy.

            “It’s… a surprise?” Neville gave in, squirming under her gaze.

            “Bah, he _always_ does this!” she rolled her eyes and puffed, turning around and leaving poor Neville room to breathe. “Why can’t he just talk with us, like a _regular_ person, instead of setting up…”

            “ _Leave the poor lad alone, you guys!_ ” Harry’s voice interrupted her, the second he came up on the _True Scribble_. “ _It’s done now, you can come in._ ” he declared, disappearing as soon as he came, and everybody gathered to the unlocked door, albeit a bit confused.

            “Bloody drama queen…” Hermione muttered to herself, but Draco chuckled at her words and opened the door.

            If the gym was massive before, it was well beyond it now. Its length was more of the same, but it’s width became enormous, turning from football field to actual stadium.

            “Oh my god, what has he done to it now?” Hermione uttered in awe.

            “Hey guys!” Harry smiled at them, landing in front of their stunned faces. “Come see! It’s simply _amazing_!” he gestured towards them as they walked towards the end of the room, passing the pool and Neville’s rings, to what seemed like a circular desk with numerous powered-down screens on top of it. In front of the desk was a huge metallic line, like the one Neville used, stretching out from wall to wall, going upwards to the barely visible celling.

            “Potter, as impressive as this is, it’s way past the point of the reveal.” Draco tried not to be impatient and failed.

            “Eager, are we?” Harry chuckled. “Okay, some context…” he turned the chair to the desk and faced them, before sitting down. “Neville here,” he gestured towards his friend and the other three turned to him suspiciously, before regarding Harry again, “found an article about some wizard inventor, a Herbert Langley, who qualifies in computer programs and user interactive software and was making a training program for the Ministry’s Aurors. And then he proposed we get it for ourselves, so I got in touch with him.”

            “And he gave just _gave_ you actual military-grade, high-tech training programs that fully fledged wizards use to battle Dark Lords?” Hannah raised an eyebrow. “Nice one!” she added, high-fiving Harry enthusiastically.

            “Thank you, but I wouldn’t say _give_ , exactly.” the boy admitted. “I did fund his research and development on all future projects for the next decade, though.”

            “How much did you pay?” Hermione found her voice.

            “Who said I gave him money?” Harry smiled mischievously.

            “Did you give him the Stone?!” Draco became outraged.

            “Oh, relax! No! Nothing in the world could be that pricey!” Harry placated him. “I just ordered a large shipment of lead bars, turned them into gold with the Philosopher’s Stone, gave him half and kept the rest for us.”

            Hermione stared at him and blinked rapidly, trying to process all of his words.

            “And he didn’t question it?” she managed to say.

            “Hey, when the Boy-Who-Lived asks for your help in defeating dark wizards and offers you your house’s weight in gold to boot, do you ask yourself anything except: what will I buy first?” Harry snorted.

            “Some new hair products, I should think.” Neville added lazily.

            “Don’t be rude, Neville, you know Herbert’s hair is frizzy from that electric accident he said he had.” Harry joked.

            “Yes, and a virus ate my Potions homework!” the boy played along.

            “So, what’s this set-up for?” Hermione got them back on track, pointing at the screens and the long server stuck underneath the desk.

            “Ah, I haven’t shown you the best part!” Harry giggled. “Computer! Activate!” he spoke to the air.

            The long, slim computer roared to life, with numerous LED fans turning on, sounding like a large airplane, and the screens instantly gained colour, a blank desktop with the Hogwarts sigil as the background. But what was truly interesting, was the sound coming from speakers set up throughout the Gym.

            “ _Voice print accepted. Augmented Reality Training Program online. Good afternoon, mister Potter._ ” spoke the extremely robotic voice of a woman, coming from the walls, but sounding like she was on speaker during a call, and the phone was next to them.

            Everyone gaped, but Draco was the first to say something.

            “No fucking way this is real, Potter!” he gasped, touching the screens and the computer almost reverently. “This is like some Muggle sci-fi movie type of thing! How is this possible?”

            “Oh my lord, we have an A.I.” Hermione breathed in awe.

            “Not really artificial intelligence, Artpy is a voiced user interface. Kind of like Siri’s witch cousin.” Harry chortled and calmed down the group. “She’s just here to help along, not enact the plot to Terminator. Isn’t that right, Artpy?” he spoke to the screens.

            “ _I am your keyboard without keys, mister Potter._ ” came the response.

            “Artpie?” Hannah laughed. “You named the expensive, not yet on the market training program ‘ _Artpie_ ’?”

            “ _Art-pee, miss Abbott, is the designated name given to this platform by mister Potter. It is a familial name, derived from the abbreviation of the program’s name._ ” the robotic voice corrected her.

            “Great, someone else to rectify my grammar.” Hanna rolled her eyes.

            “ _Parameters set; miss Abbott’s vocal and written sentences are now set for contextual and grammatical corrections._ ” Artpy declared.

            “No, darling, she was sarcastic.” Harry affectionately said over his shoulder.

            “ _Parameters reconfigured. Grammatical errors are now allowed._ ” Artpy replied.

            “Oh, I like her already.” Draco smiled and Harry returned the sentiment.

            “I can’t believe Harry Potter is Batman.” Hermione found herself saying, which of course, made everyone laugh at the realisation.

            “Yes, the rich orphan battles crimes, and I did fight someone with two-faces. Makes sense, doesn’t it?” Harry wiped a tear from his eye. “I guess I am only missing the suit.” he joked.

            “What, no offers for black tights?” Neville said to the air.

            “ _Joking was detected, mister Longbottom._ ” Artpy replied.

            “Yes, I definitely like her!” Draco laughed at his friend’s stunned face.

            “She does a lot more, but I haven’t had time to tinker with her capabilities properly.” Harry said as he turned to the screens on the desk and typed something on the keyboard.

            “ _I can do that for you, mister Potter, no need for manual input._ ” Artpy supplied, making a section of the desk retreat into nothing, then raised a small platform with a silver circlet on it.

            “Ah, right, thank you.” Harry shook his head in realisation. “Now, this headband” and at this he took the object in his hands and showcased it, “is what establishes the connection between the user and the program.”

            “What does that mean, exactly?” Hermione peered curiously at the headband.

            “Well…” Harry started, but then thought better of it. “Artpy, could you explain?”

            “ _Certainly_.” the computer agreed and the screens all changed with various information material, ranging from texts to video footage.

            “Uh, out loud, please?” Hannah looked distraught at the amount of text she was supposed to read. “In a concise, clear way, if possible.”

            “ _The Augmented Reality Training Program is designed to enhance the user’s capabilities by placing them into various simulated scenarios. The ARTP Headband is the link between the user and the augmented reality._ ” Artpy launched a verbal explanation at them. “ _The user’s cognitive functions are manipulated to experience the selected situation, including touch, smell, sight, taste and hearing, all with a 98.06% realistic response to the human brain. In case of combat, the headband can simulate pain signals to the brain with 99.99% accuracy._ ”

            “So, wait, let’s say we are in a simulated fight and I have to take cover behind a tree or something, if I try to touch it, wouldn’t I just fall to the ground?” Draco mused.

            “ _The ARTP Arena_ ” Artpy turned the lights to the huge square in front of them, “ _has exactly 10,000 forcefield microgenerators on each of the twelve suppression beams that create feedback to the user._ ”

            “Suppression beams?” Hermione questioned Harry, but Artpy was quicker, naturally.

            “ _The suppression beams are the delimitators of the ARTP Arena, each 100 meters long, with a two-part protection: the interior of the beams has a Null Zone to dispel any magic and the exterior has a forcefield protection against physical interaction with the outside. Warning: the Null Zone and the Physical Shield are not equipped to deal with the Killing Curse, as it is impossible to block._ ” Artpy announced.

            “Okay, it’s better if we demonstrate.” Harry rolled his eyes, and everyone else was on their toes, eager to see what would come next, as the boy placed the headband on his forehead. It lit up with a blue light, and some of the screens showed some of Harry’s vitals and various other means of observation. “Watch this!” he winked at his friends and did a jump towards the Arena, where upon entering, a shimmering light washed over the open space, signalling the shields going up. “Artpy, begin training simulation! One troll, please!” Harry said to the air, preparing himself. “Oh, and some music to go along.” he remembered.

            “ _Beginning sequence. Combat simulation activated._ ” Artpy announced as the machinery whirred loudly. “ _Intermediate difficulty selected: twelve-foot mountain troll. Starting soundtrack from YouTube._ ” she continued, as the music started and the extremely realistic troll appeared in a few seconds in front of Harry. _“Begin._ ”

 

            The troll, ugly as the last one Harry saw, wasted no time roaring and trying to come at him with his massive club, but it was too slow for Harry, whose Quidditch reflexes helped him dodge the hit, by doing a somersault over him. But the troll was no fool, because it was generated from a virtual intelligence, so it tried to hit Harry again immediately, but Harry dodged that as well, rolling to his left, landing on his knees.

            “ _Incendio Bombarda_!” Harry threw small pellets of explosive fire at the creature, managing to hit it a few times, as he ran in a semi-circle and kept his right arm towards it. Simulated-Troll, however, was much like a real one, and thus had a thicker skin than a human, so the fire, while effective somewhat, didn’t do much damage. It roared and lunged at Harry through small clouds of smoke, as the other four watching the scene kept shouting encouragingly at their friend.

            Harry moved backwards with small steps, in time with the troll’s swings, taunting it. He continued in this manner, earning him whoops and acclaims from his friends, as he kept moving towards the edge of the area. Finally, the troll used both hands on the club, raising it up then moving it towards the boy, but instead it hit the shield hard, and the area of impact rippled like water, but Harry moved under it, between the legs, sliding on the floor on his back. Before it had time to react this time, Harry threw a huge fire bomb at it. The troll was engulfed in a cloud of fire and smoke as it roared in utter pain.

            Harry smirked, as the spectators applauded him. But it was reckless, as apparently it was not over.

            The troll reappeared after a second, angrier than ever, disfigured and grotesque, parts of it still on fire. This time, it managed to hit Harry with a swipe of the club, sending the boy across the arena.

            The impact, while still not real, hurt just as bad as if it were, and the green-eyed boy’s vision was blurred, his breath forcefully removed from his lungs, landing painfully on his back, as Neville, Hannah, Hermione and Draco gasped and watched in shock.

            Realising this was not a game anymore, and as the troll still came towards him with thundering steps, Harry raised up a few metres from the floor, furious look on his face, gathering as much strengths as needed.

            He launched himself at the troll, both hands in front of him, to its surprise. The next second, he made the club go in his hands, and while it should’ve been heavy, his powers helped him feel it like a twig. He dove upwards at the last second, semi-turning around over the troll’s head, while watching it intently. As the troll faced him when he got on level with its eyes, Harry quickly began his assault.

            Hitting hard, left, right, upwards, downwards, moving his entire body with sudden jerks dozens of times, the boy used the club to absolutely bash his opponent’s face, moving it backwards. When the troll, lost its footing, Harry saw an opportunity, and with his left hand, took control of the immensely heavy troll, floated its body, and launched it near the closest corner to them. He wasn’t done, as he dove immediately after it, hitting it on its side, sending the troll over the other corner, then pushed it along the shield, using his power to move the head forward, while pressing it into the physical shield. Thankfully, concentrating his magic on the right side of the troll’s head was enough that the Null Zone didn’t erase his magic.

            Finally ending it, Harry snapped his hand towards his back, making the troll come back with speed, as it flailed in the air pitifully. With a roar, Harry launched himself, as fast as he could, using all of his power to hit it over the face with the club.

            It rotated in the air a few times, going absolutely silent, as it fell on its face somewhere behind Harry, as the boy landed on his knees, gasping from the effort.

 

            “ _Simulation complete._ ” Artpy’s voice pulled Harry away from his fighting mode as the music stopped. “ _Deactivating training sequence. Record saved._ ” she continued, as the shields went down, Harry’s hurting wounds miraculously healed and the club and the troll’s bloody, burnt corpse disappeared without a trace.

            “Sweet bloody Merlin, that was intense!” Hannah shouted with glee as the group approached Harry, while he exited the arena and took off the headband.

            “That was really something, Harry!” Hermione agreed, inspecting the boy, who was affectionately annoyed by her fussing.

            “No pain of any kind? That fall you took looked bad.” Draco checked him at the same time.

            “Relax, it was just a forcefield.” Harry put a stop to his examinations. “Nothing in there is supposed to actually cause bodily harm to me, just make me think it does. Very convincing, though.” he winced.

            “I don’t get it, why was the troll so strong? The last ones we faced went down with a single hit.” Neville remarked.

            “Artpy said it was intermediate difficulty. It can differ from real-life, either by being easier in there, or harder.” Harry explained as he moved towards the screens and viewed the fight. “Any comments?” he asked.

            “ _Improvement to spells shot/spells hit ratio recommended; accuracy currently at 73%. Increase in difficulty also recommended._ ” Artpy’s voice came from the air.

            “What are the difficulty levels in your system, Artpy?” Hermione asked, curious.

            “ _I’m sorry, that information is not available to you, miss Granger._ ” Artpy announced.

            “Pardon?” Hermione clicked her tongue, and Harry intervened before she turned the expensive machinery into toast. Withholding information from Hermione was never a good thing.

            “Uh, sorry! My bad! I forgot!” the boy sheepishly admitted. “There are some things about her that she can’t tell just everyone, for security reasons. Artpy, add access levels 1 through 6 for Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Hannah Abbott and Draco Malfoy.”

            “ _Adding… Complete. Present company is now certified._ ”

            “She’s so cool.” Draco breathed and Harry could swear he had never seen the boy this happy before.

            “How does she know our names, again?” Hannah remembered to ask, unknowingly stopping Hermione from asking her own question again.

            “ _I have a complete database of every registered magical individual at the Ministry of Magic. Voice recognition is based on sound files found in security footage, voice calls and voiced messages._ ” Artpy announced nonchalantly, making Neville choke on the water he was drinking.

            “Is she joking?!” the sputtering boy managed to ask.

            “ _My humour algorithms are currently awaiting patch 3.2 for implementation._ ” the computer revealed.

            “Right. So what were those difficulty levels we talked about?” Hermione asked again.

            “ _The difficulty levels of simulated combat are: Beginner, Intermediate, Experienced, Skilful, Advanced, Master and Auror._ ” Artpy recited. “ _Real-Time difficulty is extrapolated from collected data and it is not subject to standard classification._ ”

            “Of course they’re seven.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Can you explain how they differentiate? I mean, how much harder is one level than the previous one?” she asked, which Harry had to admit he was curious about also.

            “ _Certainly. Each difficulty level is calculated with the exponential formula ‘x*e x’, whereas ‘x’ is the number of the level selected. In numbers, the Beginner level will have a difficulty of 2.718281 infinite decimals, while Auror level will have a difficulty of 7676.22086 infinite decimals._”

            “And those numbers represent in essence… What?” Draco raised an eyebrow.

            “ _Chances of survival._ ” Artpy monotonously replied. “ _Beginner level represents a 1 in 2.718281 infinite decimals odds of surviving in a real-life situation in the selected scenario._ ”

            “Oh, joy.” Hannah drawled out. “Even in a simulation we have a 1 in 3 chances of making it out.”

            “It’s supposed to be hard.” Harry reminded her, turning around in the chair to face her. “Think about how much satisfying it will be when you beat something on Auror level. Which reminds me… Artpy? You said I needed a difficulty increase?”

            “ _Scanning subject… One moment, please._ ”

            “Doesn’t she need to be connected to you?” Neville wondered.

            “No, she can take the data from the combat simulation, vitals, magic levels, physical…” Harry countered, but the computer interrupted him.

            “ _Warning: presence of Dark Magic detected in subject._ ” the computer sounded alarmed, even though her tone didn’t change that much.

            Everyone looked at Harry, whose mouth was slightly open in confusion, trying to understand. He shrugged when he met their eyes, because he too had no idea what the computer was referring to.

            “Did you use Dark Magic while inside of that cage?” Hermione asked like she was talking about the weather, way too casually.

            “I wouldn’t even begin to _know_ how to use Dark Magic!” Harry countered, horrified, but everyone’s expressions remained as calm as ever.

            “Then what…?” Draco looked over at the screen.

            “Artpy? Explain, please.” Neville spoke over them all.

            “ _A concentration of Dark Magic residue was found in mister Potter, on his forehead._ ” Artpy proclaimed.

            “Oh, for god’s sake!” Harry breathed out, relieved. “Artpy, it’s just residue from the Killing Curse from eleven years ago, it’s fine.” he waved her console off.

            “ _Killing Curses don’t leave residue magic, mister Potter._ ” Artpy argued.

            “Nor do they leave people alive, but since we’re having this conversation…” Harry irritatingly said.

            “ _Very well. I will reassess parameters accordingly. Scan results complete._ ” at which several screens showed different results for Harry’s vitals. “ _Difficulty level recommended based on results is Skilful._ ”

            “That’s _a lot_ of magic for someone our age.” Hannah remarked, resting her hands on the table, and everyone huddled close to view the results, as the blonde pointed at the screen. “See? This line measures your MUs, or Magical Units, and in theory, based on your age, height and physical health, you should be able to produce around 500 MUs per spell, but your produced around twice that?” she finished with an incredulous tone, grimacing.

            “Harry, are you alright?” Hermione immediately went concerned.

            “I’m perfectly fine, what the hell are Magical Units and why is this the first time I’ve heard of this?” the boy was taken aback.

            “It’s the output of power a witch or wizard can produce in a spell. It’s measured with some variation of the Geiger counter, but not on the same scale.” Draco revealed.

            “We’re _radioactive_?” Harry was startled at the notion.

            “Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh…” Neville sang under his breath.

            “Stop singing that Imagine Dragons song!” Harry elbowed him.

            “What? It’s catchy.” the other boy complained.

            “Relax, Potter, we’re not radioactive, the MUs counter works just the same as a Geiger counter, only on different rays. Magical rays. You’re fine.” Draco waived his friend’s concerns. “You’re not turning into Spider-Man any time soon.”

            “Well, there goes my plan.” Harry said sarcastically. “So then why ask if I’m alright? Shouldn’t it be a good thing that I can produce so much magic?” Harry asked Hermione.

            “Because it could kill you.” she declared, making everyone stop breathing for a second. “Or, better yet, it _should’ve_ killed you, or at the very least render you incapacitated right now. If someone uses too much powerful magic at once they go into magical exhaustion, but if they go overboard and increase the output of the spell severely, it would likely be fatal. It doesn’t happen that often, because your mind is smarter than you and it makes you feel exhausted way before death by too much power could occur, but sometimes…” she left the sentence hang.

            Harry pondered on her words while turning back to the screen. Various tables showed a bunch of numbers, detailing him to the last hair on the top of his head. And while he couldn’t make sense of them all on his own, the fact that Artpy chose to only warn him about the residue his scar has, it should’ve been a clear indication that all was well. It seemed not, however.

            “So, if I use too much magic, I could die?” Harry whispered, trying not to think of an image of him doing something spectacular and then suddenly dropping dead.

            “If you were a normal person, possibly.” Hermione theorised. “There’s a reason Hogwarts teaches more simplistic magic to new students, because our bodies aren’t ready to undergo the strain of a particularly powerful spell, it takes too much without properly learning to expand our MUs output. It’s like asking someone to sprint five kilometres when they can barely jog one; it’s too taxing without training for it.”

            “Artpy, was there an unusual amount of physical stress to my body during the fight?” Harry deigned to ask the computer.

            “ _Nothing beyond normal combat parameters, mister Potter. Your vitals are perfectly alright._ ” the computer replied.

            “Well, we did know I was a bit more powerful than others.” Harry sighed and rested his chin on his fist, looking at his friends.

 

            They decided to call it a day after that, not keen on throwing themselves head-first into the Arena without some preparation this time. The simulations were apparently not to be messed with. Harry sent them all the electronic version of the manual for Artpy, which was hundreds of pages long and detailed all of the computer’s capabilities. Even though Herbert explained most of them to him, the boy still needed to discover the finer points of the virtual intelligence’s actions; perhaps she could be able to translate the Marauder’s Map into a mobile version – she could, after all, scour through thousands of pages on the internet in nanoseconds and read them all.

            And the possibilities were almost endless. If she was smart enough to gather information and produce relevant research by cross-referencing data, there was no telling how far she’ll go. Herbert warned Harry that even though Artpy would never actually harm another human being, she could evolve to the point where she was more than just self-aware, even gain emotional responses. She was comprised of complicated algorithms that gave responses like a person would and even more complicated alchemical magic that allowed her to form new responses based on the situation. Herbert didn’t elaborate on the latter, but Harry had a sneaking feeling that deep down, beneath the wires, the code and the magical runes embedded in the machinery, Artpy was just the tiniest bit… _human_. Sure, she sounded robot enough, but even her monotonous demeanour had a bit of personality behind it.

            “And we’re sure she’s not going to start the robot uprising?” Draco asked five minutes later, as they sat down in the living room.

            “No, she’s not going to, God!” Harry exclaimed as he fiddled with the board, searching for something to watch, as it was his turn to choose. “Would you stop worrying?”

            “Hey, I like her, but it’s still a very pertinent question!” Draco defended himself.

            “Think about it logically: a machine has one intended purpose, hers being to help the user; if there was no user, she would have no purpose. It’s not like she’s a person with hopes and dreams, she’s a very intelligent machine that likes to gather data and has a very clear sense of what she has to do.” Harry rolled his eyes, selecting to watch Merlin.

            “Okay, so what if she makes other machines to help them after she takes over the world?” Draco reiterated.

            “That’s the equivalent of holding up a mirror and saying you’re not alone, when in fact you are.” Hermione interjected pointedly. “Another computer derived from her would likely reach the same theoretical state as her and wouldn’t need her help to evolve.”

            “I, for one, welcome our new computer overlords.” Hannah stated solemnly, making everyone snort.

            “We figured, judging by the way your smartphone has enslaved you.” Neville remarked, taking out his laptop to write his homework.

            “ _There is no letter ‘I’ in the_ Croalla _spell, mister Longbottom._ ” came a robotic voice from the boy’s laptop, making him jump with a yelp, and everyone turned to see the very expensive gadget fall on the floor, thankfully without a scratch. Harry made sure to invest properly into protection spells.

            “See what I mean?” Draco joked after recovering.

            “Uh…” Harry had no idea how to approach this one. “Artpy, did you install yourself into our devices?” he spoke to the air, figuring that if his theory was true, then she could hear them with the microphones on their phones.

            “ _No, mister Potter, my files reside only on my server, I am merely available for voiced assistance on all devices you and your companions own or use._ ”

            “So, if I use a library computer, for instance, you could get on it?” Hermione asked.

            “ _Provided the device is connected to a network, I can become available once your biometric signature is detected. In case it is not, entering the server address into a browser will activate me on the device._ ” Artpy explained.

            “Right.” Neville recovered. “Just don’t start with the voiced autocorrect unless we tell you to, and especially not for mistyping something just because I pressed the key next to the intended letter.” he grumbled as he took his laptop from the ground.

            “ _Certainly. Parameters set._ ”

            “Also, it would be best if when we’re outside of the Room and the extended locations you would send text notifications, unless we talk to you first.” Harry ordered.

            “ _Of course, mister Potter. Setting discrete option for voiced interface._ ”

            “Thank you. And can you do something with that program on the floppy disk to make it work on a mobile phone?” Harry remembered.

            “ _Converting… Done._ ” the computer announced, as their devices pinged with a new app, complete with a stylish ‘M’ icon.

            “Wha – it took me a week to figure out how to archive the .dll files for mobile!” Draco spewed, outraged.

            “She got the job done?” Hanna raised an eyebrow. “What’s the matter?”

            “I just wasted my time, is what’s the matter, Abbott! Hey, can you find out who this R person is that’s been sending us messages?” Draco crossed his arms and sat lower in his seat, grumbling. “You know, since I’m useless and all.”

            “ _Scanning… No results found._ ” the computer announced, to the amazement of everyone.

            “Come again?” Draco’s voice softened almost immediately.

            “ _No identification found on R._ ” Artpy repeated.

            “Well, at least you still have your original task. And think about it, whenever you have a question, Artpy can answer for you.” Harry shrugged, and Draco gestured vaguely in his direction as a manner of begrudging acceptance. “Since you have a ridiculously expensive set of processors, can you make sure to watch the whole castle with the map? And record everything?” Harry turned to the board.

            “Why make her do that?” Hermione winced.

            “Well, there is a monster loose around the corridors, and since we can’t watch every corner with our own two, meagre eyes, and she can…” Harry sighed impatiently, gesturing lazily towards the board, which paused the show and displayed the live map.

            “ _Subroutine added. Commencing recording._ ” Artpy complied.

            “Great. Let us know if anything out of the ordinary happens.” Harry took a sip of his juice.

            “ _Shall I use the Hogwarts security cameras as well in my observation?_ ” Artpy innocently asked.

            Harry paused in the middle of his second sip, glass on his lips, as he immediately locked eyes with everyone else in the room, frozen in their activities as well.

            “Ahem. I’m sorry?” Neville deigned to ask.

            “ _Shall I add the security footage as well?_ ” the computer repeated.

            A pregnant pause fell on them, as they tried to contemplate what she was saying. But no, she was certainly not right; no matter how advanced, the computer couldn’t just grant them access to a highly secure network whenever they wished. Could it?

            “You can do _that_?” Hannah asked, wincing.

            “ _Of course. Providing footage now. Setting up cloud space for archiving._ ” Artpy took the girl’s question as an invitation and provided several live-feeds on the board from various locations around the castle. “ _Is there a particular section you desire to view_?”

            “This feels _so_ …” Hermione breathed.

            “Cool!” Hannah’s eyes widen in glee.

            “… Illegal.” the bushy-haired girl finished in the same tone as before.

            “This definitely crosses some boundaries, but let’s face it, we have to use it. Who knows what father has done?” Draco placated the muggleborn.

            “Dumbledore will not hear a word of this, are we clear?” Harry ordered in his no-nonsense voice. “He trusts me, but I don’t think he will be too pleased to find we have basically piggy-backed in his secure system. Artpy, no trouble of getting detected, I hope?”

            “ _Completely hidden from main processes, mister Potter. My presence in the Hogwarts network cannot be discovered._ ”

            “Isn’t it supposed to be, oh, I don’t know, _impregnable_?” Neville added out of the blue.

            “Oh.” Harry had a small realisation. “You can’t really just hack it, because it’s part of you, isn’t it?”

            “ _That would be correct. My original designation was for the Ministry of Magic to integrate me into their network for ease of access. When you activated me, mister Potter, a connection was required so you plugged me into the Hogwarts servers, if you recall._ ” Artpy explained.

            “Did you just _virus_ the castle’s network?” Draco threw a pillow at Harry, who thankfully had set down his glass of juice just moments prior. “Great, Boy-Who-Lived and now Plugger-Of-The-Overlord. This is how Skynet started, mind you.” his friend admonished him.

            “ _There is no virus in the network, mister Malfoy. All programs are running normally._ ” Artpy corrected him.

            “Yeah, what she said.” Harry defended her, and looked at the board, inspecting the numerous places. “Hey, what’s that over there? Near the middle, a third from the top. Are those ghosts having a… Party?” he finished his thought with incredulity. “Artpy, pull that one up.”

            The computer silently followed his command and made the image go full screen. A silver light washed over them all, as the board showed numerous ghosts floating around the spacious classroom, chatting, doing tricks with their detached appendages. There were tables around, but their contents were not with food, at least not anything a normal human could eat. Rows upon rows of sickly, disgusting looking things spanned the plates, mouldy tomatoes, white, furry cucumbers, grey, rotting meat with what seemed like puss… it was pure nightmare fuel, and Harry could swear there was a _smell_ coming from the screen.

            “Eugh!” Hannah gagged. “Could they be more disgusting?”

            “Why have food in place, if you’re not going to eat if because you’re _dead_?” Draco complained, averting his eyes.

            “It’s the only way they can feel it, if it’s pungent enough, a ghost going through all of _that_ could feel it faintly.” Hermione explained, but she too looked visibly affected. “Whose Death Day is it, anyway?”

            “The what now?” Harry was shocked back into reality.

            “Ghosts don’t celebrate their birthdays, rather the day that they died, since it has more meaning to them.” Hermione continued.

            “It’s Nearly-Headless-Nick’s Death Day.” Neville said, pointedly ignoring the screen. “And those headless riders you see are some ghostly society for people who have been decapitated. He’s been trying to get in there for ages, but they won’t let him, because he’s… well, you know.”

            “Very self-important?” Draco supplied with a snort.

            “Nearly headless, Draco.” Neville rolled his eyes with a sigh.

            “Oh, oh, Peeves just got there.” Harry laughed. “That’s not good.”

            “Just turn it off, Harry, we weren’t invited to this party, we shouldn’t peep on them like this, it’s not right.” Hermione tried.

            “Just five more minutes, I want to see how this turns out.” Harry waved her off. “Artpy, is there sound on this thing?”

            The volume turned up immediately, as the sounds of the party, ghostly voices and shrilling music from violins spilled out, and a conversation between Peeves and some ghost with pigtails and glasses could be faintly heard.

            “Blasted poltergeist…” Hannah tittered. “You just _know_ he went for Moaning Myrtle because she’s so bloody sensitive and she makes for an easy target.” she shook her head. “Do we have any popcorn?”

            “ _Hannah_!” Hermione admonished her. “That poor girl is getting picked on by Peeves and you want a _snack_ to go with watching it happen?”

            “Well, my viewing of Merlin was stopped prematurely, I have to get my entertainment from somewhere.” Hannah added without remorse as Myrtle screeched _loudly_ and exited the room, while Peeves laughed.

            “He’s going to get it now, watch.” Draco pointed out. “The Bloody Baron is coming.”

            “Okay, we had our fun, but can we stop this…” Hermione started, but Harry wasn’t listening to her. In fact, the only thing he was listening was the sound of a cold, deadly voice.

 

            “ _Blood… I smell blood… Let me skin you… Let me bite you…_ ”

            “Oh my god.” Harry gasped. “No, no, no, no, no!” he stood up. “It’s happening again!”

            “Harry, are you alright?” Neville asked, concerned.

            “You don’t hear it? The voice! The same one as before…” he looked around, trying to find the source, but he realised it a moment later.

            “Harry, there’s…” someone tried, but it was to no avail.

            “Artpy, open up the Marauder’s Map from the location of the footage, now!” Harry ordered.

            She did as she was told, and in no time, the screen changed, showing the second-floor corridor on the Map, with the now familiar lines depicting the walls and floors.

            This time, however, something interesting happened. Instead of showing a person’s name on a piece of moving parchment, it instead showed three question marks in quick succession, now moving on the corridor, sans the tag.

            But there was no doubt to it now, something was definitely loose inside the castle, something not even the powerful magic of the Map could detect, and that terrible horror was moving fast towards Mrs. Norris, and it would intersect with her any second now. The cat was the least of their problems, as Harry noted the time on the board, and he knew that was about to end. Within moments, the corridor will be flooded with students going back to their dorms, crossing right onto the monster.

            Damning all the plans and preparations, and coming up with a crazy plan, Harry ran for the door.

            “We have to get there, there’s no time!” he shouted over his shoulder, and thankfully everyone followed him without hesitating.

            “What the hell are we going to do?” Hannah yelled from somewhere behind him.

            But Harry couldn’t think that far up ahead. The only thing on his mind was the fact that people’s lives will be in danger if he doesn’t do something, and that he’ll have to deal with whatever was down there, five floors underneath.

            “We’ll never make it!” Draco gasped as they reached the corridor with the door to the Giant Staircase, which was just up ahead.

            “Yes, we will!” Harry determinedly said, gathering his power. “Hermione, warning!” he roared.

            “DON’T YOU DARE…” Neville screeched, but it was too late.

           

            Harry swung the door open with a loud noise, reached with his arms sideways while continuing to run through, then jumped over the railing, moving his hands to do a swan dive with a grunt. At the same time, his four friends found themselves being flung into the air, as Harry’s magic dragged them downwards with him. They screamed as they were falling, much too linear for it to be accidental, but they wouldn’t be hurt.

            Two and a half seconds later, Harry swopped on the second-floor landing, coming upwards from a slight dip below it, and his friends followed suit, landing safely and slowly on the marble floor.

            “Everyone all right?” Harry said between gasps, as keeping four other people floating at the same time as him was putting a bit of a strain on his abilities.

            “Oh, Merlin, I’m going to throw up.” Hannah gagged for air on hands and knees, as everyone else tried to catch their breath, too pumped with adrenaline to be angry with Harry.

            “Later! We have to move!” Harry ordered, and they followed him, albeit a bit more carefully this time, as he went down the corridor.

            A few seconds later, they arrived where the unknown being was last seen on the map, but there was nothing in particular in sight, except for a very dark hallway. They all stopped to consider their options, nearly colliding into Harry’s frozen back. Turning on the light would give away their position, but not turning it would mean that they couldn’t see well enough if something was more than five metres ahead of them, and the darkness somehow got denser the further the corridor went.

           

            “The automatic lights should be on, why aren’t they working?” Hermione whispered.

            “Keep your voice down and stay alert.” Harry whispered back. “Move close to me.”

            He took a few tentative steps into the complete darkness, his eyes barely adjusting. He could enhance his sight to make sense of the dark faster, but the last time he tried it, Quirrell detected the magic and attacked him, so he had to rely on his other senses. He knew enough of the hallway to figure if he was going to hit an armour or a wall.

            But it was too quiet. What should’ve been a gruesome scene was now as still and as silent as a grave, save for the few trembling breaths and the very soft footsteps of the five. Where was the creature? Where was Mrs. Norris? Why did the lights go out, and what stopped them from starting again?

            It must’ve been magic that got in the way of things functioning normally. The Map should’ve displayed whatever that creature or thing was, but instead it got an error, with no name for the invisible attacker. And the lights going out, drowning everything in darkness in its path… It was almost as if it didn’t want to be seen, like the mystery of it was half the reason why it was so deadly. But something in Harry’s mind gave him the faint sense that it was better that he didn’t see it. Perhaps that was it? Just the mere image of it could destroy you?

            Then again, if all of that was true, then maybe the lights still being out mean that it wasn’t very far from them, and that it was both a blessing and a curse that they couldn’t see properly. It was then Harry realised how idiotic his plan was, because there was no way of knowing if the creature wasn’t just centimetres ahead of him, silently awaiting with its mouth open, ready to eat them, or following behind them, and if they stopped they would get the same treatment. Of course, it could also wait for them behind a corner, ready to snap them in two the second they came in view.

            Evidently, this train of thought froze Harry up with unspeakable terror the second his foot touched something weird and a splashing sound resounded throughout the hallway, scaring them half to death.

            “What… was… that?” Neville whispered in his ear, but they couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything, except wait for the killing blow, tethered to their spot, muscles cramped from being so tense.

            Harry’s throat was drier than a desert at this point, but after a few more seconds of not dying, he decided to move his foot slightly above the floor, not daring to move his eyes in its direction, merely testing the composition.

            “It’s water.” Harry breathed as calmly as he could. “Draco?” he asked, as he felt the boy’s hand brush up against him, making him jump slightly, but the barely audible sound of water moving suggested that the small flood ahead of them was being moved towards the walls as they continued their steps.

            The tension only grew as they came in view with a wall, and somewhere above it there was a shadow underneath a barely visible light that tried to flicker to life.

            “What now?” Hannah drew in air.

           

            A splash somewhere behind them, so faint and distant it might’ve been a product of imagination. But the hairs of Harry’s back raised, and something dark and dangerous could be felt in the air. And the smell, like death and sewage, coming closer.

            “We’re not alone.” Harry realised with absolute horror. “It’s here.”

            But the time to be afraid of the dark came to an end. Without saying a word to each other, they each turned at the same time, magic cracking the atmosphere, until it finally exploded.

            “ _Ventulus_!” Hermione shouted.

            “ _Bombarda!_ ” Hannah intoned, as Draco used the water behind them into ice spears and Neville threw a fireball.

            And Harry thought of nothing more than causing pain, wanting to destroy the enemy hidden in the shadows. Calling more magic than ever before, he put it all into a single, small blast of pure white energy that soared through the hallway, drawing every bit of magic thrown alongside with it into it, finally colliding with _something_ at the other end of the hall into a furious explosion of energy.

            The sound was deafening, and the light from the combined magical explosion was powerful enough to blind them. But they knew, without a sheer of a doubt, that something was behind them after all, because it _screeched_ in pain and anger, with a sound they could only describe as otherworldly, tainted and wrong. They couldn’t see it, and after the explosion the light left spots in their vision as they huddled up to the wall behind them.

            In a moment of insanity, Harry finally enhanced his vision just a bit, but the only thing he could make sense of the creature was that it was large and it had… scales? A flash of a movement, a second screech, and then…

           

            Then nothing.

            Silence filled the hallway once more, like nothing had happened, collapsing it back into the black, drowning out everything else. Harry’s heart was beating with such force he would be amazed if it didn’t burst out of his chest, and his hands were trembling, from a combined feeling of tiredness and being ready to attack again.

            “It’s… I don’t… I don’t know what it was, I only saw…” Harry tried between gasps.

            The light above them flickered more powerfully this time, and it came back alive, followed closely by every other wall lamp in the vicinity, finally fixing their sight as they looked upwards.

            “Oh my god!” Hermione gasped when she saw it, putting both hands on her mouth, as they moved away from the wall, eyes fixated.

            “Holy shit…” Harry cussed.

            Mrs. Norris was hanging by her tail from the wall lamp, deathly still, fur raised up and unmoving like stone, mouth open mid hiss, no longer breathing. It took everything for Harry not to start breaking down at the sight, because whatever taxidermy nutter had done this made it completely wrong, and the boy felt ill just by looking at it.

            “Guys…” Neville breathed, sounding more terrified than Harry had ever heard him before, and pointed at something underneath the body of the cat.

            Harry and the others glanced down at what the blue-eyed boy was watching intently. Right above where their heads were just seconds ago, written in a bright red substance that shone in the light, was a message.

 

‘THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR… BEWARE’

 

            “That’s… Merlin’s balls, is that _blood_?” Draco gulped.

 

            They didn’t have time to answer, however, as hordes of students started coming from everywhere, their shouts and positive energy jolting the five children standing in front of the unmoving cat. Their classmates stopped short when they arrived at the scene, as gasps and whispers were travelling throughout the present student body, not knowing how to react or who to blame, or even cheer, for hanging Filch’s cat.

            Barely a minute later, the caretaker himself appeared through the crowd, shouting about ruddy students who occupied the hallways, threatened detentions and expulsions left, right and centre, until he finally came to see the horrific tragedy.

            “You mangy little brats, why I ought to make you all scrub… What’s with the loitering about…?” he chided the crowd before laying eyes on his cat. “Mrs… Mrs. Norris?” he whimpered and Harry had never heard such sadness in his life. This man, hated by all, loved by none, had only one companion in his miserable life, and she was taken from him, cruelly and irrevocably. “What has happened to you, my sweet?” he sobbed, approaching the cat with trembling, wrinkly hands, gasping slightly through the tears when he touched her. “She’s like stone… Who did this! Which one of you little shits did this to my cat?!” he immediately went furious and shouted at the crowd, scaring everyone. This was a new level of anger displayed from the man, one that would not subside easily.

            But then, wanting to assign blame as quickly as possible, locked eyes with a silently crying Harry, who empathised with the loss.

            “YOU! YOU DID THIS, POTTER!” Filch roared, taking Harry by the throat in the next second, as the boy forgot all of his compassion from before.

            “ _Argus_!” someone shouted forcefully, before anyone could do anything, and Harry took the time to release himself from the grasp, shoving the man as Dumbledore came into view. “We do not strangle the children in our care.” he commanded, arriving in tow with a number of Professors. “Gilderoy, please guide everyone back to their dorms. Severus, Minerva, with me. You five as well.” he addressed the children as he took Mrs. Norris from the wall.

            “Well, go along, nothing to see here! I will help the Headmaster get the cat back to normal in no time, no worries!” Lockhart gestured like he was landing an airplane at the student body, who largely looked unconvinced.

 

            Dumbledore guided their strange group to a Charms classroom, immediately putting the cat’s body on the teacher’s desk and began inspecting it with his wand as Filch peered from over his shoulder.

            It continued like this for quite a while, as the Headmaster mumbled under his breath, Filch shot dark looks towards Harry and McGonagall and Snape looked very much worried, as the other four gazed at the cat and then back at Harry.

            “Dark Magic of powerful nature, indeed…” Dumbledore broke the silence.

            “He did it, I’m sure of it!” Filch immediately pointed at the green-eyed boy, who had finally had enough.

            “I did not touch Mrs. Norris.” he spoke forcefully, but Filch had to have someone to blame.

            “Yes, you did, you did it because…!” the caretaker raged, but couldn’t finish the sentence.

            “You’re a Squib?” Harry replied in the same manner, making everyone, save the Professors, look at Filch. “I really couldn’t care less about what you’re born as, mister Filch, to do so would be very hypocritical of me, considering my mother was a muggleborn witch. Whatever our personal differences, I would never have harmed your cat.”

            “Argus, Mrs. Norris isn’t dead, she is just Petrified.” Dumbledore intervened. “It’s a very similar state to that of rigor mortis, but she is quite alive, just turned to stone on the outside.” he explained, as Filch’s anger died out at the news. “Mister Potter couldn’t have done this, it’s much too complicated magic for a twelve-year-old to perform, not to mention it takes a very Dark wizard to be able to do it.”

            “She’s alive?” Filch trembled.

            “Yes, if barely. Professor Sprout has several Mandrakes in her greenhouse, if I recall correctly. When they are fully matured, they can be used to help revive her.” the aging Headmaster calmed the caretaker, if only just for a second.

            “But what about who’s responsible? I want to see some punishments!” he gritted.

            “We will find who did this and we will act accordingly, Argus, I promise.” Dumbledore put a hand on Filch for a moment. “Now, if any of you have seen anything, now would be the time to say.” he addressed the children in front of him.

            Harry exchanged looks with the others, and then with Snape, who nodded slightly. Deciding it was best to explain it truthfully for the most part, Harry took in a deep breath.

            “We were out when it happened, we were heading back to our dorm after a trip to the library.” he fidgeted in his seat. “We went down the second-floor corridor, and everything was dark, the lights were out. There was water on the floor, I don’t know where it came from, but then we heard something behind us. We attacked it and…”

            “It wasn’t a student.” Neville said, suddenly. “I sounded like an animal, very large and dangerous…”

            “But we couldn’t see it.” Hannah continued. “We defended ourselves blindly, hence the ice in the walls back out there.” she gestured towards the hallway where it all happened.

            “It _roared_ or something like that, it sounded angry, and then…” Draco found his voice.

            “It left. We were plastered on the wall were Mrs Norris was hanging from, then the lights came back and we saw it, and that’s when everyone else showed up.” Hermione finished their tale.

            “And the writing on the wall?” McGonagall asked.

            “Quite obvious the same person that opened the Chamber of Secrets and let whatever that thing was also wrote the message.” Harry said more to himself.

            “So it’s true? The Chamber has been indeed opened?” McGonagall exchanged a look with Dumbledore.

            “It seemed it has. We will have to investigate further and be prepared for anything.” Dumbledore pondered. “I’ll have a talk with Fillius. In the meantime, you five should head back to your dorm.” he dismissed them, as the teachers huddled towards the desk, whispering amongst themselves as Filch was standing there, waiting for a miracle to happen.

            “Shouldn’t we go with them?” Harry heard McGonagall ask as he and his friends approached the door.

            “They’ll be fine.” Snape replied cryptically.

 

            They didn’t speak with one another the entire time on their way back to the Room, this time strictly on foot, too concerned with the convoluted events that took place. Upon entering their living room, Harry immediately went to the board.

            “It doesn’t make any sense, why would someone be helping Lucius Malfoy open the Chamber?” he began writing down the bits of information to create a detective’s board. “And it’s not like Voldemort himself came to the castle to open the Chamber, he had every opportunity last year to do it, and right now he’s too weak to do it, anyway.”

            “Can you imagine how much better of a plan that would be?” Hannah commented. “Open the Chamber of Secrets and distract everyone while you steal the Stone?”

            “Like he would’ve shown Quirrell where the Chamber is.” Harry snorted and everyone had to agree with his point. “Okay, so the monster is definitely real, and someone is helping Lucius to set it loose on Muggleborns and Squibs, but who?”

            “Don’t look at me.” Draco raised his arms, defending himself.

            “There is no actual way you could’ve gone down there and attack Mrs. Norris, Draco, nobody is suspecting you in the slightest.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

            “I mean that I have no idea, not that I’m stating my innocence!” Draco drawled out.

            “Okay…” Harry said, after writing down pieces of information. “Artpy, show me the footage of the ghost gathering.”

            “ _Certainly_. _Which timeframe_?” the computer complied.

            “Around the time Peeves showed up.” Harry remembered as the scene replayed before their eyes, and a few seconds later the voice of the monster could be heard. “There, pause it!” he shouted.

            “What’s there to see?” Neville stepped closer to the board,

            “The voice?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “It’s clear as day.”

            They all shot a look between themselves, leaving Harry most confused.

            “We’ve been meaning to talk to you about that, Harry.” Hannah started. “We didn’t hear anyone saying anything before and we’re not hearing them now.” she confessed.

            “Artpy, replay the last five seconds.” Harry said, still looking at his friends faces.

            “ _Blood… I smell blood… Let me skin you… Let me bite you…_ ” came the recorded voice of the Chamber of Secrets creature from the speakers.

            “Pause.” Harry ordered. “You didn’t hear it just now?” he asked his friends, but they all shook their heads.

            “Just the sounds of the party.” Draco frowned.

            “Artpy, isolate the sound.” Harry groaned, drawing a hand over his face in frustration.

            “ _Which one_?” the computer asked.

            “The one in which the creepy voice says it smells blood!” Harry yelled.

            “ _Scanning… No sound file containing the word blood detected._ ” the computer shot him down.

            “How is this happening?” Harry couldn’t believe it. “We _know_ it’s real, we were nearly killed by it just ten minutes ago, but somehow only I can hear it?”

           

            The boy’s phone pinged loudly, and after fumbling to get it out of his pocket, he saw something that gave him pause.

            Unknown: _Hearing things is not a good sign, even in the wizarding world._

_-R_

            That’s when Harry finally lost it, when the anger and frustration just bubbling under the surface broke free. His friends read the message over his shoulders and had to step back as the boy started pacing with stomping steps as he recorded a voice message.

            “Listen here, you bloody stalker...!” Harry yelled in his microphone.

            “Harry!” someone tried to stop him, but he was too far gone.

            “… I don’t know if you think this is funny or not, but these games are becoming tiring and I have no time for it! Someone has set a monster in the school to kill Muggleborn children, and it somehow Petrified someone already, I have no idea who it is or what the monster is and how to stop them, so I would appreciate it if I didn’t have to deal with you as well!” he screamed in his phone, sending the message.

            “That was incredibly reckless, Harry.” Hermione said after a second.

            “Fucking git deserves it, I don’t have the energy to deal with them right about now, they can…” Harry prepared to launch verbal expletives, but another text stopped him.

 

            Unknown: _How about we stop asking why do we hear things and ask ourselves how did we hear them?_

_-R_

            That one made him think, as well as dissipating all of the anger inside of him. It turned out yelling at R to get their act together was a good thing, because it gave him an idea.

            “Artpy, isolate the loudest sounds from when Peeves showed up.” Harry walked back to the board, as the scene replayed a second time, only now it was silent, right up until the voice spoke once more, loud and clear. “Pause. Store the last five seconds and enhance. Did you hear something now?”

            “Yeah…” Draco replied, white as a sheet. “It wasn’t a voice, but more like…”

            “Something big moving, dragging itself.” Neville continued, fixated on the screen, watching intently for any sign of it.

            “But where is it?” Hannah asked, coming closer. “Even if we can’t understand what it’s saying, someone must’ve seen it moving about, but the ghosts in the footage are not doing anything!”

            “Hang on… The only way we can hear it is because the camera’s microphone picked up the sound.” Hermione theorised. “And Harry isolated the loudest sound, so it had to be fairly close to the camera. But it didn’t show up…” she contemplated.

            “Oh, no.” Harry realised.

            “What?” everyone asked at the same time.

            “The camera picked up the sound because it happened in close proximity to the microphone, and it’s up top, fixated on… Oh, bloody hell, it’s using the _walls_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it was a long time in the making in my head, and I'm happy I finally got to show it to you!
> 
> I do hope it doesn't seem too out there that they have this wonderful robot with them, because like I said, Artpy is just Siri's witch cousin, and voice assistants have been a thing for a while now. I'll explore more of Artpy later, but don't worry, it's not going to be Terminator in the slightest, she's just funny, even though she swears she is not. It's so fun to write a monotone character when they're really not, and there is so much potential there in the future.
> 
> Did I turn to the horror genre a bit? Yes, I did, because my version of the basilisk is much more terrifying than canon one, and I want to build up to it. Harry nearly died and he doesn't even know it, lol. The battle at the end of the year will be AWESOME (trust me, I know my fighting scenes).
> 
> Well, that's all I want to say right now, because I'm bubbling with excitement, because we finally started the story properly!


	19. The Duelling Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new attack spreads more terror throughout the school, but as some come up with a solution, Harry discovers that their troubles are only just beginning.

            She knew she was done for.

            She couldn’t dodge it forever like she did so far, it was too cunning, too slippery, and the 360 degrees vision worked against her, there was literally nowhere she could surprise it from. The last ten minutes were the most fast-paced, gruelling moments of her life, and that was saying something. So then she came up with a plan, to use her environment to her advantage.

            She ran as fast as she could away from the huge creature, but her two legs were nothing compared with the eight on the arachnoid, whose multiple appendages helped it move faster, and look that much more menacingly. The girl ducked underneath a desk, hoping to use it as a shield, as she gathered her strength. The beast tore the wood like it was butter, using two of its legs to pierce through it and get to its prey, barely missing her head by millimetres, but she was smart, and used this situation to her advantage.

            “ _Diffindo_!” she cried, as the giant spider was momentarily stuck in the desk, moving backwards on her elbows from her enemy as she cut it down with a single, final blow, literally splitting it in two, along with the desk, with a resounding _crack_ and a wet, strangled sound of insides being cut with an invisible blade.

            She stared at the mess she made with incredulity, as if she was never aware of the devastating power she could wield. And such a simple spell, really, one that first years learn in Herbology to cut their plants with accurate precision, turned into a gruesome way to kill someone.

 

            “ _Simulation complete. Deactivating training sequence. Record saved._ ” a robotic voice came from nowhere.

            The dark classroom began to disappear, as did the spider, as the lights went up and the shields deactivated, and Hermione blew a breath of relief,

            “I told you that you shouldn’t try the Experienced setting just yet.” Harry smirked, tapping on several keys on the keyboard.

            “And I told you I wanted a challenge.” Hermione tried to catch her breath, with her back straightened out on the floor of the Arena, looking at the celling. “But you’re right, that was a bit intense.”

            “She did crush it instantly on Beginner.” Hannah tried.

            “Artpy wasn’t kidding with that… what do you call it?” Neville snorted.

            “Exponential equation.” Draco supplied helpfully.

            “Did you _see_ how fast it moved when we upped the difficulty?” Neville continued.

            “Do _not_ remind me!” Draco shivered uncomfortably. “That is going to give me nightmares for weeks! _Weeks_ , I tell you!” he complained, and rightfully so, the spider moved unnaturally fast under normal circumstances, but when it was a computerised one with added agility it was completely nightmarish.

            “Why did I insist on the spider in the classroom again?” Hermione groaned loudly, gesturing faintly with her hands, still on her back.

            “Because whatever the monster in the Chamber is will likely attack inside of the school and you said you hated when spiders disappear in the dark, so…” Harry shrugged as the girl finally got up and walked towards them, taking off the headband and placing it forcefully on the desk.

            “We all bloody know it’s not a spider. They’re not Dark creatures, and I don’t care what type of hybrid it could be, there’s no way a spider’s venom is capable of Petrifying someone.” she sighed, sitting down on one of the chairs and wiping the sweat from her brow with a towel Draco handed her. “How did I do?”

            “Not as bad as I thought, but it nearly got you in the beginning, and you don’t want to fight with venom in your system, the fast pumping of blood will kill you off early.” Harry casually remarked.

            “Charming.” Hermione grimaced, drinking some water.

            “Other than that, it was very clever the way you stopped it by getting it stuck.” the boy continued, praising her success with a smile. “Brilliant way of using your surroundings.”

            “It’s so unnerving when you realise that you’re powerful enough to just _kill_ something with a snap of a finger.” Hermione’s face turned dark.

            “And that’s what separates you from Voldemort, because he wouldn’t think twice about hurting someone.” Harry echoed Dumbledore’s words to her, still typing on the keyboard. “Lovely magical output, by the way; 483 MUs… You’ve been practising.” he remarked with a smile.

            “Still not up to your level.” Hermione chose to focus on the negative aspect, taking off her hairband.

            “Do I need to remind you that Potter is a walking magical bomb?” Draco drawled in her direction as he selected his training simulation.

            “I know fully well that Harry is capable of more powerful magic, but I meant the output, not his level of power. He could be twice over as potentially powerful as Dumbledore, it wouldn’t mean anything unless he could project it without hurting himself.” Hermione explained her point of view.

            “Patience, my young Padawan.” Harry said in his shabby Yoda impersonation. “Skill in time, you shall obtain.”

            “That’s not even close to how he speaks.” Hermione puffed, forming a smile.

            “I don’t know, just go with it!” Harry laughed.

 

            It’s been a week since the attack on Mrs. Norris, and the gang was only that much determined to find out what caused it and how to stop it. But that proved to be much harder than anticipated – Harry’s theory about the monster not being meant to be seen was starting to become a reality, because the cameras in the vicinity went blank around the time of the attack, like someone put a black veil over them, and while the sound was fine, not much could be discovered. Artpy managed to isolate more sound files, but it was all worthless, just a bunch of faded out moving sounds and more whispers that only Harry could understand. Without a point of reference or a much clearer sound, they were still stuck in the unknown.

            And then there was the matter of Lucius’ helper. They had to eventually concede and accept that someone had to have released the beast and write on the message on the wall, even though such a thing meant that someone in the school agreed to help with Malfoy’s Sr. diabolical plan. Artpy analysed the security footage over and over again, but it went dark for a few full minutes before coming back online, and in that time, someone could’ve easily made their way to get the monster, use it on the caretaker’s cat and then act like nothing had happened. Tracking whoever the culprit was next to impossible, as a whole section of cameras went dark. Using the Marauder’s Map didn’t help, because the recording Artpy saved glitched somehow and froze in the exact same section the cameras wouldn’t show. There was no narrowing it down without more evidence. Hannah darkly pointed out that more evidence could only come in the form of another attack.

            Whoever, or whatever it was, they were so powerful they managed to hide themselves from any security measure in place, and in an ancient castle with who knows how many protections, that was saying something.

            Thus, they had to resort to do it the old-fashioned way, to try and be prepared for anything, using the Arena. It wasn’t exactly ideal, because going at it blindly was guaranteed to get them killed when the monster finally revealed itself, but it was the only thing that they had right now.

 

            The craziness of it all distracted Harry from real-life responsibilities. It came as a literal shock when Marcus Flint showed up out of the blue one day after class to remind him that he was the Slytherin Seeker and they had a match against Gryffindor in two weeks, and that no matter how much Dumbledore postponed it because of the attack, it was happening one way or another.

            “I have no idea what I’m going to do.” Harry voiced his concerns as the group sat down at lunch that same day. All he received were stunned looks, as his friends were momentarily frozen in confusion.

            “About…?” Hannah raised an eyebrow.

            “The Quidditch match?” Harry mimicked her tone.

            “Win?” Draco blinked. “It’s not rocket science, Potter.” he huffed, taking food on his platter, as did everyone else.

            “Yeah, mate, but I’ve been thinking about it and it’s a bit unfair that I’m able to fly by myself and I’m still playing Quidditch on a broom.” Harry confessed, looking out at the mass of students in the Great Hall. “I mean, what if somebody discovers my powers and then I’m disqualified, because it technically counts as cheating that I can fly? And I did _technically_ cheat during my first match, I used my powers to propel my Firebolt.”

            “As long as you don’t use magic to get the Snitch, I believe you’re perfectly fine.” Hermione uttered in her bowl of soup, which made her the focus of the group for a change, because Hermione voiced opinions about the sport as often as it rained in a desert. “They’re spelled to detect any tampering with, so just don’t make it come to you when you try to catch it.” she shrugged.

            “Would it even be registered as tampering with?” Neville suddenly clicked his tongue and spoke. “I mean, since it’s not normal magic, but it’s like you’re creating gravity around something, like you said.” he spoke to Harry.

            “It’s still a _magical_ process.” Hermione countered perfectly calm. “Doesn’t matter if it’s not common, Harry still has to use magic to do what he does.”

            “So just shut up, relearn how to fly with only a broom, and no tricks unless you’re faced with sudden death.” Hannah clapped Harry on the back a few times.

            “Fine.” Harry blew out a breath. “Don’t come to me when your Houses lose against Slytherin.” he muttered as he took a sip of water.

            “Wait… Is that…?” Draco started, looking at someone behind Harry.

            Turning around, the boy could see a familiar read-head approaching their table, along with a mousy-brown haired boy, much shorter than Harry, with an excited look on his face, and on the opposite pole was a new girl, with sandy hair that fell in waves on her back and framed her face, but had a strange look about her, like she was only half-there, and the other half was day-dreaming peacefully.

            “Hiya, Ginny!” Neville greeted her as she came to their table.

            “Hi, guys.” Ginny smiled awkwardly, eyeing Draco a bit suspiciously, before regarding Harry. “Listen, I… um…” she stuttered something fierce.

            “With your own words.” Hannah smiled, and that helped ease some of the tension the younger girl was feeling.

            “Right, sorry. Harry, sorry to bother you, but my friend Collin, Collin Creevey, would like to take a picture of you.” she stated, as Harry chuckled out of confusion. “I know, I know, it’s weird, but he really wants to meet you, and wouldn’t stop pestering me when he found out that I know you, and I promised him I would at least ask you.” Ginny explained without pausing. “You don’t have to say…”

            “Okay.” Harry moved his shoulders nonchalantly. “It’s just a picture, no big deal.” he said, and before Ginny could reply, the boy stood up and walked over to Collin, who paled considerably and his knees wobbled, possibly thinking the worst. “Hello, Collin, I’m Harry, nice to meet you!” he said politely, as Collin managed to whimper a hello and shake his hand with trembling fingers. “I’m sorry, we haven’t been introduced yet.” Harry turned to the sandy-haired girl.

            “Oh, I’m so sorry, completely rude of me!” Ginny appeared next to them. “Harry, this is Luna Lovegood. Luna, this is Harry Potter.” she gestured between them, as Collin continued to stare at Harry and Luna gave him a smile.

            “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Luna.” Harry shook her hand as well.

            “Likewise.” she smiled faintly, and now that Harry looked at her, he could see that her demeanour was stranger than at first glance. Her very pale eyebrows and protuberant blue eyes made her look like she was always surprised, and then there were the _earrings_ – plums, of all things, hanging from her earlobes, somehow managing not to look ridiculous at first glance.

            “So then, Collin, why did you want a picture of little old me?” Harry mused, but it was apparently the switch that turned on the floodgates, because the nervous boy was replaced by an excitable one in the next second.

            “So I can prove I've met you. I know all about you. Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you, and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead…” Collin launched into a verbal explanation, almost jumping up and down.

            “Alright, alright.” Harry placated him, laughing. “I should’ve guessed.” he winked at Ginny, who went red in the face from embarrassment. “Okay, so do you want a selfie with me, or…”

            “Really?” Collin looked like Christmas came twice this year. “Oh my gosh, that would be amazing!”

            “Yes, really.” Harry smiled. “Do you have a phone, or…” he fumbled around his pockets searching, but a small cough from Hermione somewhere behind them reminded him that it was on the table.

            “Oh, no need! I have my camera!” Collin produced what looked like a much too expensive and professional digital camera for an eleven-year old to have. He made it fly with a small incantation, went next to Harry, and stood there for about two seconds before the shutter went off. “Here, is it good? Do you like it? Do I need to take another one? I’m sorry if the lighting is off, I can work on the angle if…” Collin handed Harry the camera, as the small screen showed the photo they just took.

            “It’s great, buddy.” Harry smiled, but he actually meant it. Somehow, Collin managed to frame them perfectly, and they obscured anyone behind them in the shot, making the background clean. Harry had a momentarily lapse in privacy, and scrolled to the next photo. It was of Hogwarts castle, somewhere on the grounds, with the sun just rising. It was astonishing how much magic was captured in one simple snap, so much that Harry couldn’t resist and continued to scroll. The next one was of a girl on a bench underneath the trees in the Clocktower Courtyard, a group of students laughing as they came towards the camera down a hallway, a ghost flying through the corridors at night…

            “Oh, yeah, I try to learn how to take a great photograph and I was thinking about animating them the way wizards do, but I have to bring the right emotion to it, and I haven’t managed to…” the young boy said once he realised why Harry didn’t give him the camera back.

            “Collin, these are _amazing_!” Harry exclaimed.

            “Really? You think so? Oh boy, my brother is going to be so jealous…” Collin jumped.

            “I mean it. These are really something. You should post them somewhere.” he encouraged the boy, who looked near to tears.

            “Thank you so much, Harry, you really are as awesome as they say!”

            “Yes, thanks, Harry, but we have to go now. Don’t we?” Ginny pointedly stepped in, and stopped the oncoming storm of praises.

            “Oh, right.” Collin calmed down. “Thank you again, Harry!” he said as he almost ran to the doors.

            “See you around! Keep practising!” Harry shouted after him, as Ginny and Luna bid their goodbyes and followed their friend.

            “You really shouldn’t encourage this sort of behaviour, Harry.” Hannah said once he sat back down. “I mean, what if more people come to you for pictures?”

            “People are going to take pictures of me whether I like it or not, so I might as well just go with it from time to time.” Harry sighed. “How do you know Ginny?” he remembered to ask Neville, who was deeply engrossed in something on his phone.

            “Oh, we’re in the same House, we’ve run into each other, I suppose. I know her brother, Ron, we were dormmates last year.” Neville explained. “I’m glad she’s okay now, though.”

            “Wait, did something happen to her?” Hannah became intrigued.

            “She was a bit devastated when Mrs Norris was attacked. Fred and George said she likes cats very much and that it shook her up a bit. But she seems fine now, doesn’t she?”

            “How do you know all of this?” Hermione looked perplexed.

            “I talk with people?” Neville shrugged. “It’s not like I exist only within our group, you know.” he made a face.

           

            Pretty soon, the day of the Quidditch match arrived, one dreary Saturday in the second week of November. It was an unusually warm day, even with the clouds in the sky, but the strange weather did not dampen the spirits of the castle, as the students and teachers all gathered to the pitch for the first match of the season. The delay only made the spirits go even crazier than usual, as several childish fights sprouted during the week between the two competing Houses, thus Harry resolved himself to finish the match as quickly as possible, to ease the tension felt throughout the halls. To him, this wasn’t all that important. He loved flying, even with a broom, and he liked the sport, the thrill it sent down his spine when he was chasing the Snitch, but the importance placed on it by the students was beyond irritating. It was supposed to be fun, it wasn’t like it was a life or death situation, or that they were professional matches, just a bunch of kids flying on sticks, throwing balls at each other. He really liked the sport, but he had more important things on his mind, namely the monster, the helper and the identity of R.

            Marcus gave them a small pep talk that Harry tuned out completely, being able to mostly quote the guy word for word, because he used the same buzzwords and simply cycled through the same syntaxes. To the outsider it might’ve seemed like he was out of it during the gathering before the match, but he knew he already had this in the bag. Gryffindor didn’t stand a chance against him before, why should they now?  
            The crowd was going wild as Lee Jordan, still somehow a commentator, was announcing the players. Remus was in the middle of the pitch, with the trunk containing the balls. Marcus and Oliver Wood shook hands, a menacing look on each of them, promising pain to the enemy. Harry felt the need to roll his eyes, because even down to his position in the arrow formation they were in, he could feel the ridiculous tension between the two. What was with them?

            “Now, boys, play nicely.” Remus warned them firmly, but something in his eyes didn’t quite resonated with the firm tone of his voice.

            They mounted their brooms, and the Snitch flew in the air, disappearing. One second of complete silence, as the Quaffle was thrown upwards, before it descended and the chaos started, all the players flying around in blurs of various shapes and sizes of green and red. Harry flew up instantly, still a bit uncomfortable with the way the broom seemed a bit slow compared to him. His team was scrambling to get the Quaffle back from Gryffindor, who was apparently much more bloodthirsty this time around and was not pulling any punches. Fred and George Weasley were also a bloody menace, because they shot the Bludgers like cannon balls at everything green that moved.

            It continued like that for a few minutes, as Harry desperately tried to find the ever elusive Golden Snitch. Every time he thought he saw a glint of something, it was simply someone in the stands who forgot they had the flash on when they took a picture. Hickney was doing his own thing, scouring the field here and there with careful movements. But as the game turned into a bloodbath, as Gryffindor scored and scored again, with Slytherin barely making any progress, Harry wanted nothing more than to find the Snitch.

            He thought to cheat a little bit, to reach out with his magic and find it, but it could’ve been anywhere at this point, and the Quidditch Pitch was larger than Harry had ever extended his sixth sense before. That voice in his mind was promptly shut up, because even though he was frustrated, Harry wouldn’t have resorted to unethical methods of finding the damn ball.

            He thankfully didn’t have to, because he spotted it near the middle of the field, just above the ground. Unfortunately, however, Hickney was closer, to the ground, somewhere below Harry, and judging by the way that he was staring for the last couple of seconds, he saw it too.

            Now, his grips with finding the Snitch via cheating with his powers were one thing, but catching it with the help of his powers was another. Harry dove immediately, with the full speed of the broom, and all within one second, he was nearing the ground, but at the last moment, he pulled up the broom by putting his feet on it, then stood up.

            The crowd gasped in unison as Harry used his Firebolt as a skateboard almost, gliding above the ground with speed. He was nearly caught up with the Snitch, but so was Hickney, and only a few seconds separated him from it, while Harry was just behind, enough so that he wouldn’t make it in time. With a desperate notion in his head, Harry braced himself, as he took another step on the broom towards the end of the handle, no longer using his powers to hold himself steady, but to _push_ from the broom. He was already in motion with his broom, so by jumping ahead of it, he momentarily gained more speed, finally managing to catch the Snitch, without using his powers in a more obvious manner.

            He should have.

            He jumped in without thinking, without pausing to witness the scene, even though it would’ve cost him the game. But Harry would’ve easily chose to lose, rather than what happened to him next. A Bludger, sent by one of his teammates, was heading towards the Gryffindor Seeker, likely to stop him from reaching the Snitch in time. It probably would’ve grazed his fingers and hit the Snitch away from his grip. Instead, because Harry decided to take a leaping run, the Bludger hit his right forearm with full force, just as his fingers grasped on the Snitch.

            Agony, pure searing pain shot through him, as something cracked disgustingly and he found himself launched sideways into the grass beneath, his broom falling somewhere to the right, as the boy found himself on his back, all oxygen removed from his chest.

            There was yelling, from the students, from Jordan, from the players, from Remus shouting like a madman for Pomfrey, from Harry’s own head, and there was still more pain to be felt. He tried to stand up, but dizzy as he was, he could barely manage to use his left arm to at least support himself. People were running towards him, his friends somehow managing to be the first to arrive on the scene.

            “Harry!” Hermione shouted as she slid next to him with a very uncharacteristically smooth move. “Are you alright?” she began inspecting him, as Draco, Hannah and Neville clamoured on top of him, with Hagrid close behind them.

            “No.” Harry groaned, arm still aching badly. “No, I think I broke my arm.”

            There was one concerned individual, however, that they should’ve noticed before, but he was upon them too fast. Lockhart, golden locks still perfectly sculpted and still on his head, ran towards them faster than anyone else, with a determined look about him, which made Harry want to retreat as far away as possible.

            “Not to worry, Harry, I know _exactly_ what to do in situations like this.” Lockhart announced firmly, like he was an action star or something.

            “No, not you…” Harry shook his head vehemently.

            “Poor lad, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.” Lockhart turned to the crowd. “This won’t hurt a bit.” he took out his wand and pointed it at Harry’s right forearm.

            “Professor…” Neville tried, but it was too late.

            “ _Brahiam Emendo_!” Lockhart intoned, and a purple light shone in their faces. The pain was miraculously gone, and Harry thought he was hit so hard that he actually ended up in another universe, one in which Gilderoy Lockhart was more than just for show. Of course, his theory was proven wrong in the next second, when the man tried to display his work to everyone by taking Harry’s arm, which squished with an awful sound as it dangled like rubber in front of their eyes. Everyone shot a disgusted yelp at the sight of the boneless arm, and Harry had to stop himself from retching.

            “You _utter_ imb –” Neville began to shout the reason for his immediate expulsion, but Hannah stepped on his foot with a pointed look on her face.

            “Right… Erm… Well, as you can see, your pain is quite gone, Harry…” Lockhart chuckled nervously, as _he continued to move the boneless arm_. Really, if he had a functioning wrist, Harry would’ve slapped him. “As it is… no longer broken.” he finished lamely, as someone in the background gagged.

            “Broken? _Broken_?!” Hagrid intoned. “There’s no _bones_ left!”

 

            Harry continued his streak of broom related injuries landing him in the Hospital Wing, sitting awkwardly on the bed, with his friends around him, waiting for Pomfrey to come back with a solution. She only took one look at him, and after hearing what happened, she harrumphed rather angrily and stormed to her office, muttering something about idiots who take it upon themselves to heal with no proper training.

            “How the bloody hell does this happen only to you?” Draco, sitting cross-legged on a chair next to Harry’s bed, smacked his lips audibly. “It’s almost unfairly mean at this point.”

            “I’ll say!” Harry guffawed. “A broken bone is nothing that can’t be fixed almost instantly in our world, but Lockhart had to go and make my arm like a deflated balloon!”

            “Nev, you were this close to being expelled, did you know that?” Hermione tutted at her friend.

            “I was this close to being sent to Azkaban, I nearly set his bloody face on fire!” Neville laughed coldly.

            “You dummy, what did we say about attacking someone in the open?” Hannah rolled her eyes and smacked him lightly on the arm.

            “To not do it.” Neville sighed. “I really didn’t care at that point, he made Harry’s bones disappear!”

            “Can’t say I blame you for your reaction, though.” Hermione suddenly said. “I mean, imagine if Lockhart had put more power in his spell, or if he missed and he hit Harry in the chest and his whole thoracic bones disappeared, or his spine?” she looked horrified, and Harry got an image of his lungs and heart dangling around his body without any support, and that was going into the nightmare fuel. For ages to come.

            “This is so helpful right now, I can’t even describe it.” Harry drew upon the gods of sarcasm.

            “Would be useful against an enemy, though.” Hannah mused.

            “I will take my flabby arm with my other one and I will slap you _silly_ with it if we don’t finish this conversation!” Harry warned, but the mere image made them all snort a second later.

            “Well, then, mister Potter, it seems you have done a real number on yourself this time.” Pomfrey arrived with a strange bottle that looked like two spines fused together, on top of which was a human skull.

            “I know, and it wasn’t even my fault this time.” Harry stared at the bottle, which when opened, emitted vapours that fell down from the lid.

            “Quite.” Madame Pomfrey agreed. “Unfortunately, there is no easy way to regrow a full bone, but you’re lucky enough that you’re young enough so it won’t take as long and that your ancestor invented this potion in the first place.” she announced, pouring the contents in a glass.

            “I’m sorry?” Harry did a double take. “My what?”

            “Linfred of Stinchcombe is the original inventor of the Skelegro Potion, and is the founder of the name Potter, due to him being called ‘The Potterer’, because his Muggle neighbours, whom he helped with magical remedies, thought he was just an eccentric man, pottering around his garden with his funny plants.” Hermione explained to him with way too much calm for such brand-new information to Harry’s ears. “He’s also the inventor for your favourite, the Pepper-Up Potion. Didn’t you read about him in your family genealogy records?” she questioned.

            “I think those are in my family vault, which I can’t access. And I’m also begging to realise just how my family got so rich.” Harry blinked, trying to process this.

            “I won’t lie to you,” Pomfrey arrived at his side and handed him the glass with the Skelegro, “this won’t be pleasant at all. There are some pain numbing charms I can apply, but they won’t help much in this case.” she warned, as Harry took a deep breath and downed the glass in one shot. He was thankful that he didn’t have to taste it that much, because what he got seemed like putrid cabbages mixed with two weeks-worth of dirty socks, and it positively scorched his throat going down.

            “ _Eugh_ , why did he get so rich again?” Harry winced and shuddered violently, as Pomfrey cast several spells on his arm.

            “You’ll be fine in the morning, but you’re in for a rough night.” she blew a breath.

            “Wouldn’t the bone be entirely too new, now that it’s growing back?” Draco mused.

            “It will, and that’s why I will supply mister Potter with some calcium supplements in the morning.” Pomfrey hummed in his direction. “It should be back to normal in a few days.” she declared. “Now, all of you out, he needs the rest he can get, you’ll see him tomorrow!” she shooed them out the door.

            As he lay there, Harry seriously considered changing his profession and becoming a kindergarten teacher, at least they didn’t have to deal with missing bones or madmen or invisible monsters that not even the most complex of monitoring measures could detect.

 

            Pomfrey was right about one thing, it was painful, so much so that Harry had a really hard time falling asleep, and even though he was beyond exhausted, he couldn’t close his eyes without the flaring of the pain jolting him back. He was scrolling on his phone, occasionally seeing posts from the Quidditch match from earlier, mostly being shots of him moments before the Snitch was caught. Whereas there is a camera trained on each player during the match, it seemed they learned their lesson since last year, and the second Harry moved towards the Snitch they were mostly all focused on him, as there were numerous angles during his catch. Someone even took that part of the video and made it into a gif, slowing down when he jumped from the broom. It had quickly gained traction on social media, so much so that Harry decided to post it as well, while making sure the source was credited.

            It was the middle of the night, and the pain didn’t subside at all. Harry was beginning to think that he would simply have to pass out at some point, or at least raid Snape’s cupboard for a very strong Sleeping Draught. The absolute quiet of the castle was suddenly interrupted, as Harry heard a commotion outside of the Wing. Deciding to eavesdrop, Harry quickly locked his phone and sat on his side to see the door, while making sure the curtains were open just enough that it didn’t obscure his vision.

            As quietly as they could in their current situation, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape and Pomfrey entered the room with dark looks on their faces, talking amongst themselves. Behind them, on a floating tarp, was the figure of a child, a very small eleven-year old that Harry recognised instantly, his blood running cold. He had to clasp his functioning hand over his mouth to stifle his gasp. The shock of it, and the reality crashing hard on him was too much.

            “I found him on the stairs like this, there were a bunch of snacks next to him, I think he was coming up here to see Harry.” McGonagall spoke with a terrible sadness in her voice, as Harry’s stomach shrank instantly.

            “I dread to think what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come down to have your hot chocolate, Headmaster.” Snape intoned gravely, actually looking out of his element here.

            “Petrified…” Pomfrey breathed. “Just like Filch’s cat. But why? Why would someone attack this poor boy?”

            “His parents are Muggles.” Dumbledore replied, looking ancient and tired. “Whoever is doing this is clearly a pureblood supremacist.”

            “Albus… The camera… Do you think he has a picture of the attacker?” McGonagall realised, as the old Headmaster reached out and took the camera from the frozen hands. The light of the moon shone on Colin Creevey’s face, his expression of fear permanently cemented. “Oh, dear!” McGonagall gasped as the camera suddenly started smoking from the inside, and the smell of melted plastic permeated the air. “What does this mean?”

            “First the security cameras, and now this. Whatever it is, it’s powerful enough that it disrupts anything that can save an image of it.” Snape swallowed.

            “It means, sadly, that the Chamber of Secrets has indeed been opened again.” Dumbledore countered.

            “But who…?” McGonagall tried.

            “While a very valid question, Minerva, I think the more important one is _how_.” the Headmaster was deep in thought.

            Harry was so full of rage and sorrow that he was close to bursting. That little boy, who was so shy that he couldn’t ask him himself for a picture, who ventured outside of his dorm with food to bring to a starving Harry, simply as a kind gesture, to repay the one showed to him, was now the victim of a horrifying attack, all because he wanted to be nice to someone he just met recently. That kind of good, being repaid with something as hateful as this, was more than enough to light up a fire inside of Harry, a wrath that could not be quenched until whatever was responsible was dead at his feet.

            From that moment on, it didn’t matter to him how, but he was going kill the monster himself.

 

            By morning word has spread that another attack had happened and that someone was in the Hospital Wing, frozen completely. Harry had ducked out the second Madame Pomfrey showed up with his calcium tablets, and headed straight for the seventh floor, into the Room, where he relayed what happened to his friends.

            “This is awful.” Hermione spoke after a minute of silence, tears on her cheeks. “Just awful. That kid came here, thinking he was going to a magical place to learn how to be a wizard, and instead is confined to a bed thanks to a monster.”

            “He was coming to bring me food.” Harry barely held back sobs he was repressing since last night. “He just wanted to be nice and bring me a snack because I agreed to take a picture with him and I hadn’t eaten since the game, and then…” he couldn’t continue, looking at anywhere but their eyes. “We have to stop it. And we have to stop it now.”

            “Artpy, any luck with figuring out what type of creature can Petrify someone?” Hermione asked the air.

            “ _None that match the type of movement and the sound files, miss Granger._ ” the robotic response came.

            “Keep looking. There must be something that we’re missing.” Harry ordered. “In the meantime, we should prepare more seriously. I’m not having this thing, whatever the bloody fuck it is, get the drop on us!” he gritted his teeth as he took his laptop.

            “Prepare how?” Neville asked.

            “We need better equipment than what we have now.” Harry sniffed, letting the rage take over to do his work, typing at the keyboard. “I’m talking full on Auror level protective gear, I’m not taking any chances, I want something that can withstand any damage it receives, and have less than zero weigh applied to it, so that we can be faster, and can conduct magic like it’s nobody’s business.”

            “And how are you going to achieve that?” Draco pointed out. “I can’t imagine there’s a store or something.”

            “Herbert must know someone. I’m offering ten times the price, I don’t ruddy well care who ends up doing it, just as long as they do. We’re going to find this thing and end it, once and for all.” Harry swore, and no one was brave enough to tell him to calm down this time. This was the very rare occasion in which the green-eyed boy was beyond outraged and would forgo his positive predisposition in favour of a much more dark and focused personality. There was every-day Harry, and then there was Slytherin Harry. The latter got the job done.

 

            A few days later, perhaps in light of recent attacks and as a way to keep everyone calm, Dumbledore reinstated the Duelling Club, announcing it via the Hogwarts app and by placing banners around the school. The buzz was at an all-time high, as everyone suddenly got hopeful that there could be a way to defend themselves.

            “We should go to this thing.” Neville said the day of the announcement, while they were eating breakfast in their living room, earning him four simultaneous snorts. “What? It could be educational; I heard Flitwick was a Duelling Champion back in the day.”

            “He is, in fact.” Hermione nodded, before resuming to eat her sandwich.

            “But come on, Neville, the things we can do now, we will decimate any other student standing in our way. We haven’t been training our magic for simple friendly matches, this is serious stuff we are doing.” Hannah reminded him that after all they were two Elementals, two very capable witches and one powerful wizard.

            “Yes, but what about proper technique?” Neville stood his ground. “We’ve been fighting on instinct, what if there was an easier way?”

            “We have Artpy to help along with that, Longbottom.” Draco replied simply, typing on his phone.

            “Not really, she hasn’t gotten the instructor update yet, Herbert said there were troubles with it.” Neville pursed his lips.

            “Okay, fine!” Harry sighed, and Neville squealed in excitement. “We’ll go and see what’s with the club. But I’m warning you all to not be disappointed.”

            “Why would we be?” Hannah raised her eyebrows.

            “You’re not actually expecting Flitwick or even Dumbledore to run the club, do you?” Harry laughed.

            “Who else?” Draco frowned and gestured with his hands.

 

            “Welcome, children! Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little duelling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions — for full details, see my published works.” Lockhart announced to the gathering in the Great Hall, moments after arriving in the room and stepped on a small podium.

            “Not. One. Word.” Draco gritted towards Harry, who had his ‘Told you’ expression on.

            Their saving grace was Snape, who arrived shortly after, and even though he looked very much like he’d rather suck on month old lemons instead of being here, he was a far better choice for an instructor. Even so, the murderous looks he shot Lockhart as the man continued his spiel, instead of actually doing something, boasting about… well, everything.

            “Now, let’s not waste any more time. Severus here graciously agreed to be my assistant for the day!” Lockhart gestured towards the Potions master, who looked like he was devising several painful ways of killing the Defence teacher when hearing the word _assistant_. “Do not worry, I will have him relatively unharmed.” he winked playfully at the audience, and it seemed that over the course of the past few months, his charms over the population of impressionable children was waning, especially after everyone heard how he failed miserably with Harry’s arm. “Let’s begin. Wands at the ready!” Lockhart and Snape took out both their wands.

            Harry caught Snape’s eye and gestured with his eyebrow towards Lockhart, and he could’ve sworn Snape shot him a sly smile, before the two teachers turned their back to each other and started walking away from each other, like in old western movies. Harry supposed that the _duel_ part started like this whatever the weapon, but his practical side didn’t see the reasoning behind turning your back on your enemy.

            After a few steps, they both turned around. Lockhart’s stance was incredibly relaxed, while Snape looked ready to attack on a moment’s notice.

            “On the count of three.” Lockhart sounded off. “One… Two…”

            “ _Expelliarmus_!” Snape moved with the speed of a hummingbird and blasted Lockhart on his back with force, and his wand flew in the air into Snape’s open hand. “Lesson one… Disarming your opponent can be very useful in combat.” he said as he walked slowly across the podium, towards the other teacher. “As you can see, it can end a fight _before_ it can truly begin. For those who are wandlessers the result isn’t quite as efficient, they still have their magic, but the spell can knock them back, and of course, disrupt their ability to do a spell for a precious few seconds, time in which you can use a Null Cuff on them, if necessary. Remember, wandlessers are still capable of using a wand if they choose to, so disarming someone doesn’t mean they’re helpless.” Snape gave back Lockhart’s wand.

            “Ahem… Yes, thank you for that brilliant demonstration, that I have allowed you to do.” Lockhart stood up, his curls for once slightly out of place. “Now, everyone pair up and try to disarm your opponent!” he looked around, before his eyes fell on Harry. “Potter, with Malfoy!” he declared, but Snape intervened.

            “I actually have something to discuss with mister Potter, perhaps Malfoy can pair up with someone else, _Gilderoy_.” the slimy-haired man didn’t wait for a reply and steered Harry near the doors, as everyone did as they were told and started throwing disarming spells at each other.

            “That was brilliant, what you did there. He really had it coming.” Harry snickered, shooting a glance at Lockhart trying to supervise once Snape stopped walking.

            “Thank you.” the man replied, looking in the same direction. “To the matter at hand…”

            “Yes, what is it?” Harry asked calmly.

            “Why on _Earth_ would you join the Duelling Club?” Snape looked at him pensively. “One would think normal students would be annihilated in your path since you can stand your ground against Dark Wizards fairly easy.”

            “Hannah had a same thought earlier today, but Neville wanted to learn proper duelling, and your demonstration actually went a long way.” Harry explained. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to battle anyone, and even if I did, it wouldn’t be seriously. I have that one covered.”

            “Very well.” Snape agreed. “But there was one other matter I have to ask you about.” he added.

            “Oh?” Harry looked confused.

            “Care to tell me why there are Potion supplies _missing_ from my personal cupboard?” Snape crossed his arms.

            “I don’t know, maybe you ran out?” Harry shrugged, entirely not understanding the point.

            “I keep a very exact ledger of what I have and what I use, one that I check after each Potion I make. And I make a lot of those. And I have recently discovered that there are some… empty pots, as it were.”

            “What’s missing?” Harry asked innocently.

            “Oh, just horn of bicorn, lacewing flies, boomslang skin…” Snape drawled out, seemingly bored.

            Harry drew his eyebrows together, trying to find the meaning of the ingredients, before a passage in a very advanced book popped up in his head.

            “Severus, those sound like…” Harry lowered his voice, looking around for eavesdroppers.

            “Yes, I imagine they do.” Snape continued in the same tone as before. “You know, you could’ve just asked.” he sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, before regarding Harry again.

            “Pardon?” Harry was taken aback.

            “I do not claim to know exactly what you are up to at all times, nor should you disclose any sensitive matters, but I would appreciate it in the future that you would grant me the curtesy of a request. I would agree, mind you!” Snape rolled sighed deeply.

            “Sev, it wasn’t one of us.” Harry shook his head and this time it was Snape’s turn to look shocked. “No, I swear, it wasn’t, we have nothing of the sort planned. We don’t even have a plan for anything!” he whispered, which was mostly true.

            “And are you sure it’s not one of your compatriots that are responsible?” Snape raised an inquisitive eyebrow, shifting his demeanour slightly.

            “I’m certain.” Harry stated firmly, and the man had to concede.

            “Then I guess we have a thief on our hands.” Snape stroked his chin, looking into the empty space between them. “And the implications of the theft are… troubling, to say the least.”

            “I’ll keep an eye out. But I’m guessing since you had to ask, you didn’t notice anything in the security feed?” Harry realised.

            “No, and since I’m aware your father had the tenacity for sneaking about undetected, I assumed it was you. Which was undoubtedly short-sighted on my part, I’ll admit it.”

            “Clearly. Why would I steal ingredients from you in the first place, when I can just order them?” Harry pointed out.

            “Because some of those ingredients are highly-regulated substances, they are given only to individuals with the right authorization.” Snape argued.

            “As if anyone in their right mind would refuse the favour of the Boy-Who-Lived and large sums of money.” Harry sneered.

            “Point taken.” Snape sighed, looking over at the students battling each other. “Well, it seems your friends are quite the duellers.” he smirked.

            “Yeah, we’ve been practising quite…” Harry felt proud, but upon looking in the indicated direction, his smile faltered. Draco and Hannah were going at each other quite aggressively, something Harry knew wasn’t going to end well for anyone involved. “Oh, no.” he breathed in terror.

            “What?” Snape asked.

            “Yeah, someone’s going to have to separate those two, because they get weirdly competitive with each other and then…” Harry started, but it was too late.

            “ _Serpensotia_!” Draco intoned, moving with grace, before a flash of faded pink and a large snake appeared on the floor, just in front of Hannah, hissing dangerously.

            “Ahhh!” Hannah, normally beyond fearless, was now shrieking, terrified.

            “That happens. Bloody hell…” Harry sighed.

            “Language.” Snape lazily added.

            “Malfoy, you absolute git!” Hannah shouted. “You know I hate snakes!”

            “Yield!” Draco replied with maniacal glee.

            “Fine, fine, I bloody well concede, now would you kindly remove the venomous VIPER?!” Hannah shrieked, moving away from it, as the snake hissed and slithered slowly towards her.

            “Haha, yes!”

            “ _Draco_!” Hannah pleaded.

            “Right… Yes…” Draco raised his hand, but then stopped short. “Okay, um… Don’t panic…”

            “You don’t know how to get rid of it?” Hannah’s eyes went as big as saucers.

            “Well, no, not exactly…” Draco fumbled around for his words, because he just realised that he placed his friend in actual danger.

            “Malfoy, I will bloody _kill you_ dead!” Hannah screamed as the snake kept moving.

            “Crap!” Harry breathed and ran at the same time with Snape towards them, but someone else intervened, as he usually did.

            “Allow me, Professor Snape! _Volarte Ascendere_!” Lockhart appeared out of nowhere and pointed his wand at the animal, making it shriek with a high-pitched sound, before flying upwards, and Hannah finally made her escape, running behind Draco, apparently forgiving him for the moment. The crowd stopped what they were doing to witness the scene, as the snake, undoubtedly fine, fell back on the ground with a thud.

            Sharp inhales all around, and sounds of surprised filled the Great Hall, as the snake was now angered by all of this, and wanted revenge. It locked on to someone, a Hufflepuff boy whom Harry didn’t recognise, and began to move towards him, with open mouth, showing off sharp fangs.

            “ _Stop!_ ” Harry shouted out of desperation, walking towards the animal with his hand reached out, ready to wring its neck, and in the silence, that fell instantly, the snake seemed like it _heard_ what the boy said, and it slowed down, still hissing at the terrified Hufflepuff. “ _Leave him alone!_ ”

            The snake stopped and _looked_ at Harry, regarded him for a second, before trying again to move towards its prey.

            “ _I SAID STOP!_ ” Harry roared with all his might.

            This time, the snake listened to the command, and stopped threatening anyone, as it turned to Harry, looking completely docile. The boy blew a breath of relief, but when he looked around he couldn’t say the same of everyone else. No, they looked completely out of their wits, scared senseless still, but they weren’t staring at the dangerous animal in front of them; they were staring at _Harry_.

            “ _Vipera Evanesca._ ” Snape shot a spell towards the snake, making it be consumed by flames that turned it into ash in an instant.

            Everyone still looked like they had witnessed something absolutely horrific, which gave Harry pause. The Hufflepuff boy that was in danger now eyed Harry with anger, for some reason.

            “What are you playing at?” he asked with a trembling voice.

            “What are you talking about, I only just stopped it from eating you alive, how about a thank you? Jeesh…” Harry was outrage at the reaction he got. “Some people...” he rolled his eyes and muttered towards his friends, but they looked just as terrified at the rest. “Okay, why is everyone looking at me like that?” he asked Snape, but Lockhart talked over them.

            “Okay, children! That’s all for the day! We’ll come up with a date for our next meeting soon! Come on, off you all go, and remember to…” he announced, as waves of people started powerwalking towards the exit, leaving a very confused Harry with his friends behind, and Snape regarded him with a very strange expression.

            “We’ll talk about this later.” the Professor said gravely, before following everyone out.

            “Well that was weird.” Harry sneered after everyone else left. “The hell is their bloody problem? I couldn’t just let it eat him, could I?” he gestured at the closed doors.

            “Harry…” Neville started with a small voice.

            “Anyway, listen, I talked with Snape earlier, he said that someone stole ingredients from his supply, and those ingredients are used in making Polyjuice Potion, which means that…” Harry started reciting the conversation he had with the man, but stopped when he saw that his friends still looked at him with shocked expressions. “Okay, you’re acting weird, what’s the matter?” he finally asked.

            Hermione made a face, then her eyebrows shot up in realisation.

            “Oh my god, he doesn’t know.” she breathed.

            “Know _what_?!” Harry lost his patience.

            “When were you going to tell us you are a Parselmouth?” Draco confronted him.

            “A what now?” Harry’s face went through several expressions.

            “A person that can talk to snakes.” Hannah shuddered.

            “Anyone can talk to a snake, Han, no one’s stopping you!” Harry rolled his eyes and gestured wildly around.

            “And make it _listen_?” Neville intervened with a firm tone.

            “Well, I did shout at it to stop, I mean, you heard me…” Harry began, but Hermione interrupted.

            “No, Harry, we didn’t.” she shook her head.

            Harry opened his mouth to retort, but couldn’t find the words as his mind finally caught up on what had transpired before them.

            “So, wait, when I told it to stop from attacking that boy…” he tried to make sense of it.

            “We didn’t hear that. All we heard was _hissing_ coming from you, in various tones, like you were saying something.” Draco explained, now visibly more relaxes after the initial shock, as were the others.

            “I _was_!” Harry defended himself. “I told it to stop, and it listened, even though you couldn’t understand, it should’ve been obvious that I stopped it from attacking!”

            “It wasn’t.” Hannah swallowed. “At first it looked like you told it to _attack_ Justin.”

            “Harry, you have to realise that Parseltongue, the ability to speak to snakes, was something that Salazar Slytherin was famous for.” Hermione finally said what was on their minds.

            “Wait, wait, wait…” Harry raised his arms. “They think… _I’m_ the Heir of Slytherin? Because I can talk with _one_ animal?”

            “It’s something of an open secret that Slytherin’s line has this ability. There are others, incredibly rare, but his is the most well-known.” Draco explained.

            “Then how come you didn’t understand what I was saying?” Harry asked, sitting down on one of the podiums.

            “It must be because I’m too far away from the main line. It’s clearly a recessive gene, otherwise all of his descendants would have this ability.” Draco theorised.

            “So how come I have it? I can’t possibly be related to him, can’t I?” Harry wiped his face in frustration.

            “Like I said, recessive gene. Maybe a Potter had this ability at some point and it resurfaced in you.” Draco shrugged, unable to come up with a better explanation.

            “This is just great, now the student boy will think that I’m the one out to get them, when I’m specifically working _against_ whoever is actually doing this!” Harry groaned, as his friends sat down next to him. “This has to do with Voldemort, somehow, he’s the Heir of Slytherin, he’s likely a Parselmouth…”

            “Still doesn’t explain how you can do it.” Hannah pointed out. “It’s going to be okay, they’ll eventually realise you’re not the bad guy here.” she rubbed Harry’s back, trying to comfort him.

            “It’s going to be a while before that happens.” Draco said darkly. “Parselmouth is considered Dark, because of the connection with Slytherin and snakes.”

            “This is like Hitler’s moustache, isn’t it? You sport it and you’re a nazi.” Harry grumbled.

            “Kind of like that. But for the record, don’t _ever_ grow a moustache like him.” Hermione joked.

            “Wasn’t planning on, trust me. It looks weird.” Harry sneered. “I didn’t even know I could talk to snakes, what the actual hell?” he complained dramatically, as his friends laughed at the scene, easing off the last remains of the tension.

            “Just wait until they talk _back_.” Draco clicked his tongue, earning more laughs.

            “What would a snake even have to say?” Neville snickered.

            “Trussst in meee…” Hermione spoke in a very wispy voice, with a very heavy lisp, making everyone except Harry roar with laughter.

            “Oh, yes, bloody _Mowgli_ is a Parselmouth and he’s also behind the attacks on the school, job well done lads!” Hannah chuckled, before it died down. “Wait, hang on just a minute…” her expression changed into a serious one, as she likely came to the same conclusion Harry had just moments before, when he stood up. It was the way Hermione imitated the snake from the Jungle Book, Kaa, the way she spoke reminded him of something very terrifying, etched in his mind.

            “No, Hannah, I can promise you Mowgli isn’t the one behind the attacks.” Hermione laughed at her friend.

            “No, not that!” Hannah gesticulated.

            “Hannah, I think you’re right.” Harry turned to his friends with a look of dread. “Oh my god, it all makes sense!” he started pacing as he explained. “So, Salazar made a hidden chamber inside the castle and put inside a monster to purge the school of muggleborns, but he had to control the monster somehow, it couldn’t just rampage through the school and kill everyone, it had to be specific! And Parseltongue is his trademarked ability, one that can only be passed to his true heirs, and only _they_ can finish his work!”

            “Harry, slow down, you’re not making a lot of sense.” Hermione tried to calm him.

            “Don’t you see? I kept hearing the voice of the monster, but you guys couldn’t understand it, and now we know why! I’m a Parselmouth! I can talk to snakes! And I can understand them!” the boy felt out of breath.

            “It’s a snake.” Neville got it, and this time Harry definitely wanted to kiss him for being so clever. He refrained, of course. “Slytherin monster is a serpent. Merlin’s balls, _why didn’t we get to the same conclusion earlier_?!” he bellowed. “We _knew_ he was a Parselmouth!”

            “But what kind of snake can Petrify someone?” Draco found himself asking.

            “Artpy?” Harry took out his phone. “Is there a snake that has the ability to Petrify?”

            “ _There is no species capable of naturally causing Petrification, mister Potter._ ” Artpy replied immediately.

            “She has to be wrong. Maybe there is simply no record of a snake like that, perhaps it’s unique?” Hermione stood up and walked a few steps, thinking.

            “It also has some cloaking ability.” Draco rested his chin on his knuckles, with his elbow on his knee. “Remember, it took down the cameras around the school when it came in their view.”

            “That could’ve easily been the person controlling it.” Neville pointed out smartly.

            “But what about the lights?” Hannah remembered. “In that hallway, the lights wouldn’t come on, and they stayed that way until it disappeared. That couldn’t have been the other Parselmouth.”

            “So it doesn’t like to be seen?” Hermione chimed in.

            “No.” Harry decisively stated. “I think it rather _shouldn’t_ be seen.” he looked at all of them. “Artpy, is there a type of serpent that’s dangerous to look at?” he asked the phone.

            “ _Scanning… One result._ ” Artpy finally hand an answer for them.

            “Go ahead.” Harry encouraged her.

            “ _Excerpt from Most Macabre Monstrosities – ‘Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or deadlier than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size, and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it._ ” Artpy read to them, before she produced and obscure article about it on their phones.

            “Holy fucking Merlin, _no_!” Hannah jumped, absolutely horrified of what she saw. Harry had to agree to the sentiment, because the artist depiction of the basilisk was monstrous, a giant serpent, thick as an old oak and with fangs that were the size of an arm, and yellow eyes that made Harry want to look away instantly.

            “This is what roams the castle?” Neville whimpered in terror.

            “Okay, so we now know what it is and how we stop it.” Draco tried to be as steady as possible in light of recent realisations. “We have to find it and bring a rooster to it, and make it crow, and then it’s done, no more attacks.”

            “Unless it doesn’t work and then we’re done.” Hermione countered. “Our basilisk has been around for over a thousand years, and poultry has lived on the grounds just as long, and it’s still not dead.”

            “We have to try.” Harry stated. “We can try in a simulation, see what happens. Artpy, prepare a simulation of a basilisk, we’re coming up.” the boy continued and motioned for everyone to follow, but the computer stopped him in his tracks.

            “ _I cannot do that, mister Potter._ ” she replied.

            “Why is that?” he chided her.

            “ _I have no simulation of a basilisk in combat sequences. Any information available is outdated by at least 700 years and it is not enough to extrapolate an accurate behavioural pattern._ ” she explained.

            “She’s right, there hasn’t been one around in ages.” Neville looked on his phone. “According to this, it’s a class 5 X beast, a known wizard killer, but because its creation is identifiable, the ICW issued severe rulings about their breeding.”

            “And no one broke that rule?” Hannah looked unconvinced.

            “It can’t be controlled, except by a Parselmouth, and chicken coops are subject to inspection. I’m completely serious, there is a task force for it. Eventually they cursed the coops so that the eggs would break if in presence of a toad.” Neville read from his phone.

            “Well, bollocks. So we don’t know if it will actually work with the rooster, and we have no way of simulating combat with it. Great.” Harry sighed.

            “What I don’t get is how did Mrs. Norris and Collin ended up Petrified.” Hannah mused. “It says the stare kills.”

            “Indirect contact.” Hermione realised. “There was water on the floor that night, and Collin looked through a camera. That’s why they aren’t dead.”

            “But how are you supposed to fight something that you can’t even look at, Hermione?” Hannah sounded irritated.

            “I think I have an idea.” Harry smacked his lips.

            “What… No, I _know_ that look, you have something devious planned that we will all regret, don’t you?” Draco accused Harry.

            “Come on, we best get going. We have to learn how to fight a giant serpent while being blind, after all!” he said over his shoulder as he walked towards the double oaken doors.

 

 

             

             

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it, the gang finally discovers what the monster is, but it's not that much helpful on how to stop it, they have no way of knowing if it could actually work with a rooster.
> 
> Just like last year, Harry figured out pretty early on who's the main villain, but it doesn't actually serve him with a solution, because while I like to solve the canon mysteries earlier, I also love to add to them, or create new ones in order to build tension. Like I said, I kind of have to work against myself here sometimes, because granting them powers and smartphones doesn't mean they're invincible or all-knowledgeable, it just means that they can better prepare themselves. On the other hand, I enjoy empowering the antagonists as well, so you maaay want to be on the lookout for when shit goes down. Also I enjoy making Lockhart be so annoying, while at the same time I want to kill him for it.
> 
> Overall, I think the saddest part of this chapter was definitely Collin. I wanted Harry to be more comfortable with himself and his status as a famous person since the early days of this fic, and this time, when asked politely for a picture, he accepted, because hey, why not? He's just posing for two seconds for someone who admires him and it would make their day. I have it written that Harry doesn't really care about the fact that he's famous, he's not above using that status when it serves a higher purpose (just like Dumbledore, if you've been paying attention), so here it makes sense, and the fact that Collin gets Petrified just days after he meets Harry is somewhat tragic on his part, but it reminds Harry that these are the consequences of Lucius' plan, and that he has the power to stop it.
> 
> It will be interesting to see how this whole Harry Potter is a Parselmouth develops now that they have social media, but his friends will be there no matter what. Speaking of, it's so frustrating to write Harry juuust the right amount of drawn to Neville, enough that he doesn't know that he has a crush on him. Which is why I have decided to touch a bit on that pretty soon. Like next chapter, soon. Y'all are not ready, I swear.
> 
> And is someone brewing a Polyjuice Potion???? Why??? Who????  
> *to an off-key tune* I know. And you will know. And then you won't know. And then you'll hate me.
> 
> Till next time, ho, ho, ho!


	20. The Polyjuice Potion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's emotions run an all-time high, and among the results of that someone has brewed something in secret...

            Snape looked pointedly out the window for several moments, blinking several times. It was supposed to be a beautiful day, if one liked to watch the last leaves fall down in the wind, with grey skies above that didn’t promise any storm or rain, just floated around. It felt safe, from the inside, where there was a warm fire cracking happily on the background, and there was enough silence so that the serene picture wasn’t disturbed.

            He stood up from his desk, and went to his cupboard, but what he was rummaging for wasn’t a potion, or an ingredient. Instead, reaching to the far back, he pulled out a bottle of his strongest bourbon, a dusty, dark bottle that he rarely used, because it was expensive and rare. It was the one thing he had splurged on with his ill-gotten money from his time serving Voldemort. The rest he had donated or simply gave it away to the families he had hurt, without them knowing. He didn’t want to touch it, he didn’t want to have it after he realised his grave mistakes, and it was the least he could do. But he allowed himself just this one thing for himself, if nothing else.

            The bottle was only used when something important happened that left him needing a strong drink. He wasn’t an alcoholic by any means, he just needed a way to cope with the hard times in life. Just for a moment, to numb his mind and let go. His mother dying shortly after he joined the Death Eaters earned his first glass. His first kill was another. His last was the next. Deciding to change sides was two glasses. Lilly dying was an entire third of the bottle, something he felt for an entire week. His first day of teaching. Meeting Potter and telling him the truth. Forgiving James Potter after all these bitter years.

            In the last year, he hadn’t had the need to drink. But this time, he had no choice, upon hearing the words that would shake him to the core.

            It was supposed to be a beautiful day.

            He poured an entire glass to himself, and set the bottle on the desk, before taking one sip, carefully tipping the glass for just a taste. The bourbon was strong, perhaps the strongest, and he never had much resistance to alcohol.

            “Are you supposed to drink in front of a student?” Harry seemed amused, sitting on the chair in front of the desk, cross-legged, fingers weaved together, resting on the lap, patiently waiting through the whole process.

            “Don’t start with me, Potter. The troubles you bring to my door are enough to drive a man far worse than to _one_ glass.” Snape sneered.

            “Accurate statement, I suppose.” Harry sighed, looking out the window. “I do tend to come with the worst news.”

            “Are you sure about this?” Snape asked, after taking a second sip.

            “Have I ever been wrong before?” Harry countered with no hint of malice.

            “Careful, otherwise one of these days you’ll find yourself in a very precarious situation that you haven’t thought of.” Snape chuckled darkly.

            “I also tend to be open to the fact that anything’s possible, so don’t be so concerned. And yes, I am completely secure in my belief that a basilisk in roaming the halls. Or, rather, the pipes.”

            “This is beyond terrible.” Snape sighed, looking much younger and frightened than Harry had ever seen him. “A positively ancient monster, one that we have no idea how to defeat, Petrifying muggleborn children…”

            “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that.” Harry remembered. “Dumbledore said that Professor Sprout has a solution?”

            “The Restorative Draught that is made from a mature Mandrake can be used to negate a Petrification. I can brew the potion just fine. Or _Lockhart_ , if he’s to be believed.”

            “In his bloody dreams.” Harry snorted dismissively at the notion. “So why haven’t we done it yet? The Restorative Draught?”  
            “Aside from the fact that we have no sufficiently mature Mandrakes available?” Snape replied with a raised eyebrow. “Some of the ingredients aren’t available right now, particularly the first snowdrop of spring.”

            “You’d be surprised, but there are such things as _greenhouses_. And other hemispheres!” Harry gestured to the outside. “There’s spring on the other side of the world right now!”

            “ _Late spring_.” Snape pointed out. “There are no more natural snowdrops right now. And they have to be completely natural, the entire process of winter turning to spring is a phenomenon that literally changes the planet, and everything on it as well. _Renewal_ , that’s the point here. You cannot create something in a lab and expect it to be completely the same as its natural counterpart, it did not grow in the same environment, it did not experience existence in the same way.”

            “Nature versus nurture.” Harry had to agree. “Or, rather, _and_ nurture. But I think I can help with that.”

            “I’m sure not even your funds can be of assistance here.” Snape laughed in his glass.

            “I’m not talking about my wealth, Severus, I’m talking about my ability to use magic to _influence_ something happening faster. Like, for instance, making a plant grow.”

            At this, Snape stopped mid-drink, before setting the glass back on the desk with a bit too much force.

            “You’re not listening. I told you, you cannot artificially induce the right conditions needed here. If you somehow,” at this Snape drew himself closer to Harry, “manage to make the snowdrop grow, or the mandrake mature, it wouldn’t be enough. Their cells would just be older, but the snowdrop wouldn’t push _itself_ out of the ground from icy depths to flourish in spite of the cold, and the mandrake wouldn’t be matured, just _older_. Potion making is as much science as it is magic, as it is _spirituality_. Meaning cannot be created in a vacuum, Potter. When I asked you to help me with the Wolfsbane potion, that was different, that wasn’t living tissue, those were ingredients that simply needed more time to blend together, a process that was already underway. What you’re talking about defies the very laws of nature itself. Ask yourself, if you were to turn yourself older physically, it wouldn’t matter, because you wouldn’t have the mentality of a seventeen-year old for instance, it would just be your twelve-year old self in the body of someone older.” Snape became an awfully chatty person when inebriated it seemed. “ _Time_ , Potter, time and experience and nature is what’s needed here. We can’t force that. We’re not gods.”

            “Well, _time_ , Severus, is a commodity we can’t afford right about now.” Harry seethed. “Not when we have a monster on the loose. I don’t suppose you could fashion an antidote from the basilisk itself?” he asked.

            “I couldn’t say. There hasn’t been an in-depth study of a basilisk, no one is very keen on trying, seeing as they can kill with a look.” Snape blew a tired breath.

            “Fine. Then I guess I have to kill it first.” Harry clicked his tongue.

            “I’m not sure I want you involved in this one, Potter.” Snape downed the glass in one go this time.

            “I’m not sure you want to stand in my way.” Harry’s tone turned cold.

            “Are you _threatening_ me?” Snape seemed amused. “A wizard three times your age, with more battles and spells under his belt than you?”

            “No, I’m warning you, Severus.” Harry stood his ground, and Snape’s somewhat smile faltered a bit. “You weren’t there when I tore Quirrell’s spine with a flick of my hand. Imagine what I can do when I _really_ put my mind to it.”

            “I’m aware, Potter.” Snape sat back in his seat, looking defeated. “I know that nothing that I can say or do will stop you from going after this thing. The only reason I’m even okay with this, albeit reluctantly, is the fact that I know you can take care of yourself. You’re not stupid, not by any means, and you’re more resourceful than most.”

            “Thank you.” Harry calmed down. “I suppose I better go and come up with a way to kill a basilisk if the rooster thing doesn’t pan out.” the boy said in lieu of a goodbye.

            “You know, as much as you remind me of Dumbledore sometimes, there are moments when I can almost see some of the Dark Lord in your eyes.” Snape commented, making Harry turn around with a shocked expression. “I know it may sound strange what I say, but I meant it as a compliment, in a way; his determination to succeed is eerily similar to yours.”

            “I know.” Harry blinked. “Dumbledore and Voldemort are both powerful men. Of course, I only respect and admire the Headmaster, while I oppose and loathe Voldemort and what he stands for with a passion, and I’ll do so for the rest of my life, but it doesn’t mean that I can’t learn from both of them. Particularly from their mistakes.” he continued.

            “There are days when I wonder why did I think you would be Sorted anywhere else but in Slytherin.” Snape gave a short chuckle, crossing his arms.

            “So do I, Sev.” Harry chortled. “So do I.”

 

            The days after the Duelling Club incident were some of the worst Harry had ever experienced in his time at Hogwarts so far, particularly because now, wherever he went, people tend to avoid looking at him, for fear he would turn them into stone, or something, like he was Medusa on a warpath. For the last two weeks, Muggleborns and younger students stayed in concise groups and shuffled quickly out of his way, or out the door, the second he got close.

            And social media was on an entirely other hellish plane. People left and right claiming that he was the personification of the devil itself; gifs, memes, mean hoots and posts cluttered the Wizarding Internet with the stink of fickly people, who turned on him the second he was not perfect in their eyes, like he was supposed to be this poster child who could do no wrong.

            Harry admitted to himself in the privacy of his mind that he _did_ make mistakes along the way, like when he lied to his family about what he can do and what he had done, charging head-first into mortal danger, smuggling dragons, disrespecting rules and authority… He wasn’t ashamed of those, because he had a clear sense of right and wrong, but it didn’t mean that what he did was correct all the time. It was one of the reasons he loved his friends, their different point of views helped him consider the bigger picture, and it stopped him from being completely reckless. And now they were his only solace in a castle that seemed terrified of him.

            But the worst thing of all wasn’t the fear and mistrust of him, or even the online threads about his latest ability – no, the worst of all were the people who _admired_ him for it.

            His sudden reveal as a Parselmouth made way for the kind of people that supported what Salazar Slytherin represented, that if Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was his heir, then he could speak up for those who did not want muggleborns in their world.

            Harry felt disgusted at the notion, as if he could rally those type of people in perpetuating hate speech and hateful acts and everything his own _mother_ died fighting against. Hermione was the most affected by those type of comments, for the first time being exposed to the vitriol of people behind screens.

            “I’m not sure what’s worse, the fact that it’s 2012 and we’re still this racist, or the fact that they’re talking out their asses on devices muggleborns helped brought into our society.” Hannah remarked angrily one night.

 

            Public opinion was always changeable, though, and Harry knew the truth. While it wasn’t exactly pleasant to be considered a villain in the making, it didn’t matter to him as much as he thought he would. He still had a job to do, namely find the basilisk and kill it.

            The latter proved… Difficult. Fighting something they couldn’t look at while dodging your environment was trickier than at first glance.

            “To your left… no, your other left! No!” Draco groaned, as Harry entered the gym after speaking with Snape. “Merlin’s balls, Abbott, can you listen to directions next time?” the blond sighed heavily when Hannah had enough and took her blindfold off, disintegrating the enlarged snake they programmed, and Artpy announced the end of the simulation.

            “It wouldn’t matter.” Harry announced his presence once near the console, making Hermione and Neville jump in surprise when he was next to them. “We all have to fight it at the same time, meaning neither of us will see what’s going on, so all of our directions are useless.”

            “Besides you, who can act like an actual bat and send a sonar, we’re all screwed, Harry!” Hannah breathed heavily as she stepped out of the Arena. “Isn’t there a contact lens that acts like a mirror, or something?”

            “It wouldn’t matter, any direct contact with the basilisk’s eyes will kill you.” Hermione argued, letting Hannah sit in her chair before pacing around for a bit. “Collin and Mrs. Norris both looked at it through reflections, and they got Petrified.”

            “Powerful Notice-Me-Charm around its eyes?” Neville offered.

            “Still have to look where we’re aiming for the spell.” Draco countered.

             “Great, unless we can do what Harry does…” Neville threw his hands up.

            “Which we can’t.” Hannah rolled her eyes.

            “We’ll figure it out.” Harry stopped the arguing. “How is the search for the Chamber going?”

            “Badly.” Hermione frowned as looked at the screens. “There are barely any records available about the pipe system in the castle, most of it was build when indoor plumbing was invented.”

            “Imagine going to the bathroom outside in winter.” Draco winced and Hannah shuddered.

            “So we have no digital copy of it?” Harry ignored them.

            “No, it’s not stored anywhere Artpy or I could find.” Hermione shook her head.

            “Dumbledore might have it. He’s the Headmaster, if anything ever needs replacing or fixing, shouldn’t he have the original blueprints somewhere?” Neville wondered.

            “They could just as easily be in some dusty folder in the Ministry’s archives.” Hannah theorised. “And we have virtually no way of getting them, either way.”

            “God dammit!” Harry became furious and hit his fist on the desk. “We’re stuck, and we have no clue how to stop the basilisk!” he roared.

            “Getting angry isn’t going to help here, Harry.” Neville tried to calm him down.

            “Neither is getting complacent.” the boy argued as he took the headband Hannah was using earlier and went into the Arena. “Artpy, turn up the simulation Hannah had earlier. Auror level.” he ordered.

            “Harry, _no_!” Hermione tried to stop him, but it was too late, as the shields went up and the simulation started.

            The giant snake Hannah fought was towering several times above Harry, and it moved with force. It tried to swallow him whole, but Harry was too far gone, too angry with everything that had happened in the past six months; Lucius enacting his terrible plans, Collin being attacked, R’s stalking, Lockhart, not finding the monster, not finding the helper… it was too much. He needed it out, needed to fight something, anything, to release this terrible feeling inside of him. He chose the most secure option to do that, something that wasn’t real, or alive, that wouldn’t feel pain.

            One nanosecond before the snake nearly killed him, Harry moved his hand in front of it, freezing it in place, not looking at it, as everyone gasped and the beast struggled in its invisible grasp.

            He threw his hand with a loud grunt, as the snake went sailing through the air, hitting the shields. It recovered faster than it should’ve, likely because of the increase in difficulty. Harry rose up in the air and started throwing everything he had at it, using the projectiles of energy he discovered he could make, back during Halloween.

            But his opponent was far too quick for him, and it dodged every single attempt, before finally launching with its mouth open towards Harry. The boy barely had time to get out of the way, but the snake’s tail caught him by surprise, immobilising him in a crushing grip, as the monster tried yet again to eat him.

            Harry managed to get one hand free and launched a firebomb in the open mouth. The snake hissed in pain, and the shock of the action set him free. Harry used this valuable time to throw it back again to the shield opposite of him, but the snake quickly caught on this time, and managed somehow to reclaim its balance, landing just a few meters ahead, before twirling around and hitting the boy with the tail, sending him across the Arena.

            Harry hit his head, _hard_ , with a resounding crack on the shield, and his ears started ringing loudly. The snake was coming closer, and by the time Harry would get up he would be dead.

            “Artpy, pull the plug, _now_!” Neville yelled.

            “No.” Harry ordered, his head now finally clear, just in time, because the giant monster was upon him.

            Something inside of him _broke_. Flooded his veins with determination, burned in his heart with resolve, grounded his feet with certainty, breezed in his mind with fury. He stood up, the air crackling around him, and the sound of an oncoming avalanche could be heard, coming closer with every millisecond. It was only one thing that Harry could do in that moment, right before the snake threatened to end him.

            Unleash his power.

 

            Harry _roared_ , a terrifying sound of a mighty beast, hundreds of times as large as him, as the snake was suddenly hit with a blast of pure energy, an explosion that sounded like the very air was struck by lightning and split it in two. Harry flew upwards and hit it again, as the creature hissed in anger and in pain. It tried launching itself at Harry, but he pushed it back down, then hit it with the same blasts again, and again, screaming all the while, months of frustration and of fear being let out all at once.

            Half a minute of this, and Harry landed back on the ground, breathing heavily, his entire body drenched in sweat, and his feet a little wobbly. He probably would’ve recovered, if not for the fact that amidst clouds of smoke the snake launched at him, _perfectly fine_.

            No more.

            Harry’s rage found new depths to exist in, and used both hands, moving them violently to his sides, with his fingers clasped around invisible balls, facing the snake.

            The snake absolutely howled in agony, coiling around in itself, flailing about desperately for an end. If it was a real one and Artpy could process Parselmouth, it would be screaming for an end. Harry attacked every part of it with just a thought, sending its nerves into a world of pain.

            “Why won’t you just _die_?” Harry gritted at it, throwing his hand forward, and the simulated snake screeched even louder.

            “HARRY!” his friends all yelled in terror, distracting him, and the snake used the moment to try to attack Harry _yet_ _again_ , even if just earlier it was being utterly decimated. But it would be for nothing, as Harry yelled, filled with hatred towards the never-ending attacks, wanting to crush it, to destroy it, make it hurt.

            He used everything he got, every ounce of his being, and the snake screeched with a sound that would never leave his ears, as its whole body collapsed into itself, contorted into unnatural positions, bones poking out, flesh turned out, like the inside of its back switched places with its front.

            Harry fainted on the spot.

 

            Muffled voices came at him, all at once, too loud and conflicting, hurting his brain. He tried to tell them to stop, but it all came with a groan. He couldn’t open his eyes, the muscles just couldn’t move, and his whole body felt like it weighted several tonnes.

            “He’s waking up, thank Merlin!” Draco’s voice became suddenly clear, as a jolt brought back a gasping Harry, who was suddenly ready for another attack by a resurrected snake.

            “Whoa, slow down, Harry!” Hannah pushed him back in his bed. “You’re in the Hospital Wing, you’re fine, everything’s fine, just breathe!” she ordered him.

            Catching his breath, Harry looked around, and indeed he was where she said they were, surrounded by beds with curtains, in soft sheets that smelled vaguely of antiseptic.

            “What…” Harry tried, but his voice was all wrong, hoarse and strained, his throat dry.

            “Here.” Hermione handed him a glass of water, which he downed immediately, earning him a coughing fit. “Short gulps, Harry!” the girl admonished him.

            “Thanks.” Harry regained some of his normal self. “Why did I collapse, why did…”

            “You went into magical exhaustion.” Neville spoke for the first time, looking at Harry strangely, standing much farther than everyone else, for some reason.

            “I… did? How? Aren’t I supposed to produce more power than normal?” Harry asked, confused.

            “Here, we have the record saved by Artpy…” Draco pulled out his phone and started speaking way too loudly for Harry’s taste.

            “Shhh!” the green-eyed boy slapped Draco’s shoulder lightly. “Madam Pomfrey could hear you!” he gritted.

            “She’s not here, she gave you some vitamins, said you were to rest for an hour and go.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Artpy, explain the situation.”

            “ _During the simulated combat sequence, mister Potter’s magical output varied around 4873 MUs per attack, culminating into 5230 MUs at the end of the fight. Mister Potter’s body was not able to withstand such a large output of power_.” Artpy explained, her voice coming from the phone’s speaker.

            “Hear that?” Hermione shot him a disapproving look. “Ten times about what normal wizards our age can do, and five times more than what you can, _per_ _attack_ , meaning you produced a total of…” she gestured towards Draco’s phone, and Artpy must’ve had access to the cameras as well, because she replied instantly.

            “ _151420 MUs in total, miss Granger._ ”

            “Right. That amount is what your more than average wizard can produce during an average duel, and your body can only sustain the total output per fight of…” Hermione kept her condescending tone throughout her speech, rightfully so, gesturing yet again to the phone.

            “ _Unknown_.” Artpy replied.

            “What?” five simultaneous voices shouted.

            “ _I cannot predict with accuracy the limit to which mister Potter can produce magic without pausing._ ”

            “That’s not right, there’s…” Hannah started, but someone interrupted her.

            “Ah, Potter!” Madam Pomfrey appeared out of nowhere, and Harry side-eyed Draco, who shrugged. “You’re awake. Good.” she came to check on him.

            “Long time no see, Madame Pomfrey.” Harry replied with a smile.

            “Oh, yes, five minutes without you here were just too long.” she continued. “Any dizziness? Nausea?” she asked, as she checked his pupils, pulse rate, and reflexes.

            “Just tired, really.” Harry sit up in the bed. “I feel fine.”

            “You shouldn’t, but I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.” Pomfrey tapped on her tablet.

            “Bet the Trojans would like to have a word with you about that.” Harry snickered.

            “Technically, it wasn’t their gift to take in the first place, it was for Athena.” Hermione answered automatically.

            “So you _have_ been reading your Greek mythology!” Harry was pleasantly surprised.

            “Considering last year, yeah, we have.” Neville snorted dismissively, but his manner was still stand-offish, and Harry couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

            “Potter, I have something to discuss with you. Alone, preferably.” Pomfrey dressed her voice.

            “It’s alright, they can hear, I’m going to tell them anyway.” Harry replied simply, but his heart started beating louder in fear. What could she possibly have to say?

            “Very well.” Pomfrey looked unconvinced at her audience, and produced a chair to sit on. “Do you know what that is?” she put the tablet in Harry’s hands, and it showed the outline of a person, with what seemed like blood vessels, connected to the heart. Only it wasn’t the heart as normal, instead it had this shimmering light on top of it. “That is a person’s magical core.” Pomfrey explained. “It doesn’t really look like that, it’s not around the heart, more like the heart is made out of it. It’s not visible, if I were to look at your heart with the naked eye it would look like an ordinary heart, not a wizard’s.”

            “Then how can we look at it? Is it thermal imaging or…” Draco pondered.

            “The MRI machine we have is tuned to look for the omega rays of a person, their magic, I mean.” Pomfrey regarded him, before turning back to Harry. “This is what a normal core looks like.” and she pressed on the tablet, making the picture turn into an animation, as the shimmering lights went everywhere in the blood vessels. “Now, _this_ is what yours looks like.” her voice turned grave and scrolled to what Harry supposed was supposed to be an outline of him. Only, this one didn’t have that magical core Pomfrey talked about.

            Harry mind went through several dark thoughts as he sat there, staring at the screen, refusing to believe what Pomfrey was implying.

            “Where is mine?” Harry breathed, as everyone else went still. “It can’t be gone!” he cried.

            “I know, Potter, it’s not possible that it would be gone, otherwise you would be dead right now.” Pomfrey tried to relax him.

            “Or a Squib.” Hannah unhelpfully added.

            “That’s not possible, because _this_ is what a Squib’s scan looks like.” Pomfrey reassured her, taking away the tablet before presenting the group with the same outline, only this it showed the core not pulsing magic in the blood vessels, and it didn’t shimmer, it was just bright. But it was brighter than Harry’s scan. “Squibs have a magical core, but it doesn’t flow the magic in their bodies for a reason yet unknown, and so they can’t access it. Mister Potter’s, however…”

            “Makes it seem like I am a Muggle.” Harry could barely breathe.

            “Correct. And yet, that cannot be.” Pomfrey sighed.

            Harry couldn’t take it anymore.

            “ _Incendio!_ ” the boy produced flames in his right hand, and blew a sigh of relief at seeing the familiar flames dancing in his palm. So he still had his magic, thank god. He was terrified that for a moment, just a moment, he had depleted his magic entirely during his stint in the Arena, and was doomed to be a Muggle for the rest of his life. Of course, that wasn’t possible, in retrospect, but the fear still plagued him earlier.

            “No strain of any kind?” Pomfrey put her glasses on, inspecting the flames. “No difficulty in casting?” she asked Harry.

            “No, it feels normal.” Harry put the flames out. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

            “Curious… By all means, Potter, you don’t show the signs of having a magical core, but you are able to produce magic. Quite easily, I might add.” Pomfrey pondered. “I need more time on this, I will contact you should I discover anything relevant.” she went into the drawer next to Harry and produced what looked like a futuristic gun, which she placed on Harry’s forearm. “Stand still.” she ordered.

            “Wait, what… _Ouch_!” Harry cried in confusion as the gun pricked at him, but still followed her commands. “What was that for?” he looked distraught, as Pomfrey released her iron grip on him, and he inspected his arm, but the pain was gone entirely and it looked like nothing had happened.

            “Just took a blood sample.” Pomfrey sounded bored, as she took a vial with Harry’s name on it from the back of the automatic needle gun. “Drink some orange juice, you’ll be fine. Now, if you have nothing else ailing you, I suggest you get some rest in your own bed.” she dismissed him. “Good day!” she smiled and left them all perplexed.

            “I want to be her.” Draco looked at her retreating form. “She just took your blood and left!”

            “Yeah, about that…” Harry got out of his bed with stiff legs, took his belongings and headed for the door, with the others in tow. “Artpy, keep watch on what Pomfrey finds out. Delay her results and show them to me before you let her see anything.” he spoke in his phone.

            “ _Certainly_.” Artpy replied.

            “So why can’t we see your magical core, but you’re still able to produce magic?” Hermione wondered as they walked back to the Room.

            “I haven’t the foggiest.” Harry answered truthfully. “Listen…” he stopped in his tracks. “I’m sorry about earlier, I was just frustrated with everything and I wanted to take it out… I shouldn’t have done that, I worried all of you…” he stammered.

            “It’s okay, mate. We get it. We’re all angry about the attacks and not being able to stop them.” Draco placed a hand on him. “But letting that anger dictate what we do isn’t the answer.”

            “You’re right.” Harry looked at them in turns, but Neville avoided his gaze. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

            “You’d better not!” Hannah cuffed him on the back of his head, and he didn’t have any reason to complain, he had it coming. “That was awful, the way you just collapsed like that! If Neville hadn’t insisted on bringing you to the Hospital Wing, I don’t know what we could’ve done!”

            “You should’ve seen him, he carried you almost single-handedly… Wait, where are you going?” Draco smiled proudly, but Neville started walking without them mid-sentence.

            “I have homework to finish, I’ll see you all later.” Neville said without looking at them.

            “What is his problem?” Hannah huffed.

            “I think I know.” Harry felt his stomach turn.

 

            It was nearing midnight, and Neville was still up in his bedroom, and no one had seen him since he left. Harry told them to leave him alone, because he had some things to work out for himself.

            Sitting cross-legged in his bed, Harry reviewed the footage from earlier in the Arena. Artpy was something of an aspiring director, as the various hidden cameras zoomed in just the right places and changed perspectives when called for. But one thing was certain… That Harry wasn’t the one sitting in his bed right now.

            There was a lot of fury in his face, a desire to hurt and cause pain, and the power he displayed… It was like looking in a strange mirror, watching a darker side of him fighting a giant, simulated snake. Quite literally, almost, as Artpy pointed out there was usage of Dark Magic when Harry had made the snake feel pain with just gestures of his hands, before utterly decimating it.

            Dark Magic… Harry had no idea how he did it in the first place. He knew that Dark Magic was simply offensive magic, meant to cause anything from minor inconveniences to fatal bodily harm to someone or something, in various degrees. And judging by the looks of the bloody corpse of the snake, Harry went to the very extreme of that spectrum. It didn’t scare him, magic was just magic, but it did unsettle him how easily he used it to hurt something.

            He finally got up, in the dead of the night, and walked towards Neville’s room. He knocked several times, waiting, shifting nervously on his feet. He almost gave up after the second knock, when he heard a faint response from behind the door.

            “Come in, Harry.” Neville’s voice could be heard.

            Harry opened the door slowly, and saw Neville sit in his bed with his covers on him, watching something on his laptop.

            “Can I come inside here as well?” Harry asked with trepidation as he raised the covers to reveal a very tired-looking Neville staring at the screen. He only nodded, and Harry joined him under the covers. There must’ve been some spell to keep the air from being too hot, because the small airholes Neville had to his side weren’t going to be enough. “What are you watching?” Harry tried the slow approach.

            “Game of Thrones.” Neville answered, still looking at the screen.

            “Aren’t we a bit young to watch such a show?” Harry chuckled.

            “I don’t know, aren’t we a bit young to be battling dark wizards and basilisks?” Neville countered without any warmth in his voice.

            “Point taken.” Harry agreed. “Still, I don’t know if any of the teachers would be happy with the fact that we’re watching a sex scene right now.” he commented, laughing at the screen.

            “They’re brother and sister.” Neville sighed.

            “What!?” Harry screeched, but the other boy didn’t even flinch. “Ew! Why!”

            “I don’t know, I only now just began watching it.” Neville shrugged.

            “Oh my god, what’s that boy doing there?” Harry shouted at the screen.

            “He likes climbing.” Neville said. “Wait… Oh no…” he paled.

            “Did he just…!” Harry gasped. “And it _ends_? He just pushed him out the window and that’s how it ends!?” Harry gaped like a fish. “What type of show is this? Is this what Snape meant when he said he gets enough suspense from this show?”

            “Snape watches this?” Neville chuckled for the first time as the credits rolled.

            “Yeah, he said so last year when I walked ominously in his office and announced I had something to talk to him.” Harry waved his hand.

            “Like you’re doing right now?” Neville realised.

            Harry sighed, preparing himself.

            “I know what…” he started.

            “Harry, it’s okay, I get it…” Neville placated him, and it was the first sign of hope that Harry hadn’t completely destroyed their friendship.

            “No… Hang on a minute.” Harry had an idea, getting out of the covers. “Come with me. I want to show you something.” he declared, as Neville complied mostly out of curiosity, with Harry walking them towards the upper balcony, opening the doors to the outside. “Come!” he extended his hand towards a very sceptical Neville.

            “You do realise it’s snowing outside?” the blue-eyed boy looked over Harry’s shoulder, and what do you know, it actually began to snow. Harry didn’t even notice it. “And it’s nearly December in Scotland, so it might stick?”

            “Do you trust me?” Harry asked with a mountain of implications, and during a second of silence, he feared the answer.

            “I do. You know I do.” Neville answered decidedly.

            “Then come with me.” Harry shook his hand once more, and this time Neville took it and then wrapped his arms around the raven-haired boy’s shoulders. “Hang on!” he smiled as he flew them in the snowstorm, but a shield from Harry kept them from being hit, and Neville’s warmth kept them from freezing.

            He landed them on the Observatory, the tallest tower in the castle, settling down on the roof. Neville looked around as he dismounted Harry’s back, very confused about their current situation.

            “We’re a bit high, don’t you think?” the boy looked down with trepidation.

            “We won’t fall. And if we do, I’ll catch you. Or you could use your fire to produce flames with enough power to keep you elevated.” Harry calmed him, sitting down on his back.

            “You think I can fly?” Neville suddenly became enthusiastic.

            “Don’t see why not. With practise, you could do it. Come, sit!” he offered.

            “Isn’t it a bit uncomfortable?” Neville raised an eyebrow.

            “Is it?” Harry countered mysteriously, as Neville had to comply and sat down on the surprisingly soft metal shingles.

            “What is…” Neville breathed in surprise.

            “I charmed this part of the roof to be as soft as a bed.” Harry explained, looking upwards, as his shield stopped the snowflakes with ease. “I started coming here after Collin to clear my head, usually at night when I can’t sleep.” he admitted.

            “So that’s where you’ve been disappearing to.” Neville made a sound of realisation. “I just thought you went down in the kitchens.”

            “And here I thought I was subtle about it.” Harry laughed, watching the way the snow was dancing in the air.

            They sat there quietly for a few moments, listening to the wind and the trees, watching the snow dancing in the air, all the while being safe and warm under the magical shield. It was a chance to let go and be free, and not think of all the troubles they had. Harry realised he should’ve just fly here earlier, when he was angry, instead of acting out on it.

            “Listen, Nev…” Harry started. “I’m sorry for what I did. I saw the recording, I know how it looked like and what it did to you.”

            “It’s fine, Harry, like I said, I get it.” Neville sighed.

            “No, it’s not fine.” Harry turned to look at the boy, meeting his beautiful blue eyes for what seemed like the first time. And where they always _this_ blue before? “I made that thing hurt, I basically _tortured_ it right in front of you, and I didn’t think about what it could do to you.” tears swelled in Harry’s eyes.

            “That’s not it, Harry.” Neville kept eye contact. “I know what you did was because you were just tired of not knowing what to do, and it wasn’t a real snake.”

            “It still affected you. I reminded you of your parents being…” Harry couldn’t finish his horrible thought that Neville saw Bellatrix Lestrange in him for a second there.

            “I didn’t like it, true.” Neville admitted. “I didn’t like that you went in there and purposely wanted to hurt something just to feel better. But I know that you wouldn’t do that to a person, not without provocation, and it was still a simulation. You took out your darker impulses on something that wasn’t even real. And I get that, Harry, I get wanting to do it. Do you think I wouldn’t repay Bellatrix and her husband in the same way if I had the chance?”

            “Would you?” Harry asked. “Honestly, if they were helpless right before you, could you do it?”

            “If it was them? Yes. Anyone else? No, not unless they did something as horrible to me.” Neville confessed in a surprising turn of events. “You know, last year, before I met you, I couldn’t even think of hurting a fly. Now? I helped you take down Voldemort just because he was hurting you.” he laughed coldly.

            “I still shouldn’t have done that in the Arena. It served nothing in the end. It didn’t make me feel better, and I gave in to anger.” Harry continued to look at Neville, feeling his heart beat faster with every second. “I got into the Hospital Wing because of it.”

            “Yeah, and I had to carry you.” Neville laughed.

            “Thank you, by the way.” Harry returned the sentiment.

             “And I wasn’t cross with you earlier because you killed the snake violently, I was angry because you went off without listening to us and then ended up hurt.” Neville revealed. “I don’t care that you can get angry sometimes, I know you do, because you’re human, Harry, not a robot, and I know that whatever happens, you’re still a good person, and you want to do good and realise when you’ve made a mistake. And you apologise for it.” Neville pointedly said.

            “I promise to take a deep breath next time and be more… calm.” Harry swore solemnly.

            “I don’t know, that was pretty bad-ass the way you took it down.” Neville joked.

            “Yeah, I’m not turning the dial up to eleven on difficulty any time soon. That was brutal.” Harry looked away finally, as Neville scooted closer to the boy, both watching the snow drifting in the air. “I don’t want to end up like him, Nev. Snape said recently that I remind him of Voldemort and Dumbledore sometimes.”

            “Voldemort is angry when he doesn’t get to kill muggleborns or you, you’re angry when they’re killed because you care.” Neville’s soft voice sent shivers down Harry’s spine, the close proximity not helping matters at all. “You need to stop telling yourself that just because you have a temper that you’re evil, it just means you’re passionate.”

            “But I can’t let that consume me.” Harry whispered.

            “No, you can’t. You need to deal with it in a healthy way. And you have friends to help you. We all get frustrated, sometimes with each other, we all do and say things we don’t mean sometimes, but we’re also happy together, we make jokes and laugh with each other. As long as you realise your darker side isn’t for enacting pain, but for using it to protect the ones you love, you’ll be fine.” Neville said.

            And in that moment, Harry wanted to explode with a feeling he never knew before, his chest burning and his nerves trembling. He wanted to tell Neville how much he meant to him, how happy he made him, and how he relied on him sometimes more than the others, because he understood him in a way that they couldn’t, not fully, how he admired him for standing up for what he believed in, how proud he was of what he achieved. And that he was so smart and wise, and so brave and so supportive…

            But he didn’t, because Harry knew that by now he had developed a crush on the other boy, as strange as it may have seemed. And his romantic feelings might be rejected, or worse, Neville could stop speaking with him, like he nearly did today. He wasn’t going to risk that, just for a silly twelve-year old fancy.

            So for the time being, he just settled closer to Neville (purely for warmth purposes, okay?!) and just watched the snowstorm in silence, until even the blue-eyed boy’s flames weren’t enough to keep them there, in that strange bubble of reality, where everything was safe, and all the worries were somewhere else, forgotten and unimportant.

 

            Harry’s momentary lapse in judgment earned him the scrutiny of Hermione, Hannah and Draco for the next few days, as they constantly looked worried every single time he performed the simplest of magic, even though he constantly reassured them that he was fine. It took a confirmation from Artpy to calm them down, that yes, Harry’s vitals were fine and that his usage of magic was not pulling any strains on his body, provided he refrained from jolting out more than usual.

            The thing about his magic core also intrigued him, as he put Artpy to the task of finding everything she could on the subject. But like with his unusual powers, there wasn’t anything out there. Hermione suspected that it might be related; there was no information on how Harry was doing what he could, telekinesis, flying, sensing, object manipulation and most recently power blasts, were not something that could be explained as natural powers when it came down to it, so maybe his missing magical core was connected to that.

            “Well, it’s not like it’s missing, that’s impossible, maybe it’s hidden, or on another level.” Hannah theorised during one of their discussions on the subject. It was already the second week of December, and there was no sign of any attack on the horizon.

            “Where, though?” Hermione spoke with her mouth full, clearly too entrenched by the subject at hand to remember her proper manners. “His nervous system, maybe?” she swallowed.

            “Could explain how easily magic comes to me, I mean, if it’s in my nerves, then of course magic would move at lighting through me and thus coming out more than usual.” Harry gesticulated to sustain his point.

            “Then you would be in constant pain.” Draco blinked several times, looking at the _True Scribble_. “Magic coursing through your nervous system would send you into a world of hurt.”

            “Well, since I’m a unique case, then maybe that doesn’t apply to me, Draco the all-knowing.” Harry enunciated dramatically.

            “The torturing curse is simply throwing magic inside someone’s nervous system, that’s why it hurts them. It’s not hurting physically, not really, but it sends the signal to the brain that it should, so it does.” Draco sighed and explained.

            “Well, we’re not trying that.” Neville warned them.

            “Why not?” Hannah asked with wide eyes. “It’s just for a second! See if our theory is correct. Harry wouldn’t mind, would you Harry?” she turned to her friend.

            “I can handle it.” Harry shrugged, nonchalantly.

            “Okay, A: you won’t, trust me.” Neville pointed with his hand. “And B: none of us here actually want to hurt you, so we couldn’t be able to cast it on you and get the desired effect!”

            “I like how we simply went over the fact that we’re okay with casting Unforgivables at Harry.” Hermione deadpanned.

            “Yeah, you probably shouldn’t. The last guy who tried it didn’t end up so well.” Harry resigned himself.

            “Right. Any of you staying for Christmas this year?” Draco changed the subject. “I know my parents want me home this year, they were very adamant about it, so I kind of have to go.” he grumbled.

            “Dad as well.” Hannah sighed deeply. “I mean, I get it, it’s Christmas and without mom it’s hard on him.”

            Everybody froze instantly, staring at Hannah unblinkingly, as she continued to eat her dinner and watch Merlin on the screen. It was a few seconds before she realised every eye in the room was on her.

            “What?” she spoke with her mouth nearly full of potatoes, gesturing with her fork. “Did I say something?”

            “Han, I think this is the very first time you’ve mentioned having a mother.” Hermione said slowly.

            “You know I have a mother, it’s not like I came out of my dad alone, ‘Mione!” Hannah laughed at her.

            “Yeah, but you’ve never spoke about her. Not once.” Draco said with a strange look on his face.

            “Shove off, Malfoy, of course I did. Didn’t I?” she checked with Neville, who shook his head. “No?” she looked at Harry, who did the same thing. “Oh, wow, I must’ve imagined it then.” she resumed her eating.

            “Hannah!” everybody cried and Hermione actually shoved her lightly on the shoulder.

            “What?” Hannah replied again. “Oh, right.” she realised. “What do you want to know about her?”

            “Her name, for instance!” Draco was the first to gather his thoughts. “I could never find it anywhere.”

            “Annabelle Flint. She was Marcus’s second cousin, in fact.” Hannah said.

            “Was?” Harry caught on.

            “Oh, yeah, bitch dead.” Hannah chuckled.

            “ _Hannah Lucretia Abbott_!” Hermione screeched. “How can you talk about your mother like that?!”

            “How does she keep finding our middle names?” Draco whispered with half his face towards Neville.

            “Because she was one?” Hannah made a face. “She left dad for someone else, she humiliated him and then she got killed by her lover. And she wasn’t a very nice person. I have little to no memory of her, but the stuff I do remember didn’t exactly pain her as a saint. So, in essence, yes, she was a complete and utter bitch, Hermione.” Hannah was on a warpath.

            “Can we ask…” Harry tried.

            “How it happened?” Hannah calmed down a bit. “Well, she was more interested in the Abbott family name than loving my dad and I, and he loved her so much, poor fellow, but she grew tired of him, so she left him for some guy named Dolohov, who turned out to be a Death Eater and got killed by him during a duel with Dumbledore’s forces during Voldemort’s reign.”

            “Wait, that was more than a year and a half after you were born.” Neville realised.

            “Yep. And she was so horrible that I can remember it even now, I don’t know how dad could stand it. She almost never took me in her arms, she yelled at me for no reason other than not being perfectly quiet, and she never _once_ tucked me in at night!” Hannah blew an exasperated breath.

            “Hannah…” Draco looked _tearful_ after her whole reveal.

            “Oh, relax, Malfoy, I’m okay with it, have been for years, I don’t miss her in the slightest.” Hannah waved her hand, but Harry could see something in her eyes changed. “So, I guess I better come home for Christmas this year, even though I’m going to hate every minute of it.”

            “Distant relatives again?” Hermione tried to change the uncomfortable subject.

            “Yeah. And they invited the Longbottoms this year, which…” Hannah gestured towards Neville.

            “I have to go too.” he sighed.

            “Well, Harry and I will stay over…” Hermione tried.

            “Out of the question.” Harry interrupted her. “You’re going home this year.”

            “Pray tell, why am I exiled?” Hermione looked furious.

            “Because there is a monster on the loose inside the school that targets Muggleborns, which you are one, if you remember, and all the Muggleborns are going back home this Christmas, and if you stay the basilisk will definitely come after you.” Harry crossed his arms.

            “Oh.” Hermione realised Harry was coming from a place of worry. “I forgot about that.”

            “I’ll stay over and try and find the Chamber of Secrets. Don’t worry, I won’t go in there without you guys, if I find it, but if the castle is deserted, then I won’t be interrupted.” Harry declared.

            “Are you sure about this, Harry?” Neville asked.

            “Marge is visiting and I have no intention of speaking with that woman. Ever again.” Harry shuddered at the thought.

 

            Two days later, Harry found himself walking towards Hagrid’s hut for a very strange reason. He just woke up that day and felt the need for a chat with the man. Naturally, the smoke coming from the chimney indicated that Hagrid was indeed at home on that cold morning. He knocked a few times and waited for a response.

            “Hiya, Harry!” Hagrid greeted him with a smile.

            “Hey, Hagrid. Can I come in?” Harry bristled at the cold breeze.

            “Sure, sure, come right in!” Hagrid ushered him inside. “Wait, yeh’re not in trouble, are yeh?” the man thought to ask, because usually Harry came to him with his problems. It was Hagrid’s own fault for being somewhat insightful, really.

            “Not unless you count me being a Parselmouth trouble.” Harry chuckled as he sat down and took off his coat and scarf he got for Christmas last year.

            “Oh, yeah. Heard abou’ that.” Hagrid said gruffly, and proceeded to procure tea and some cookies he had made recently, like a good host.

            “Well, the truth of the story is that during the first meeting of the Duelling Club, Draco created a snake while fighting Hannah, because she has like three fears altogether and that’s one of them, and it got out of control, it tried to go after a student and I commanded it to stop.” Harry explained, as Hagrid put two sugars in the boy’s tea and served. “Thank you.” Harry added before taking a sip, and Hagrid sat down. “So now I’m feared throughout the school because I can talk with snakes, and apparently that’s mighty evil of me.”

            “That’s just crazy talk, Harry. Anyone who ever met yeh knows yeh’re the nicest kid around.” Hagrid comforted his young friend.

            “Oh, well, I think that’s beside the point now. Everyone is _convinced_ I’m the Heir of Slytherin!” Harry motioned exasperatedly. “It’s like they forgot that my parents died fighting a pureblood supremacist and that I have a loving Muggle family, I mean... What in the world would possess people to think that I’m like Voldemort?”

            “They’re just scared, Harry. And they’re looking fer someone teh blame, yeh just got caught in their sights, lad.” Hagrid looked sorrowful. “People fear what they don’t understand.”

            Harry took a deep breath, as he realised why he came down in the first place.

            “Did they fear you? When you started school?” Harry barely had the courage to meet Hagrid’s eyes.

            “No,” the man looked out the window, pointedly. “They couldn’t stand the sight of me. Called me all sorts of names, half-breed the worst of all. But not everyone did it. I had a lot of people watching my back, Dumbledore especially.” Hagrid sniffed.

            “I can’t imagine. And it’s not your fault you’re…” Harry quickly stopped himself before touching a very sore subject, but Hagrid was way ahead of him.

            “Half-giant? Don’t worry, Harry, I figured yeh knew.” the man chuckled. “Yeh’re not the brightest wizard of your age for nothin’.”

            “How did you deal with all of that?” Harry continued.

            “Well, at some point, Harry, yeh have teh realise that it’s not yer fault how or who yeh’re born, but who yeh choose teh become. I chose teh be more than a giant man with savage tendencies, like yeh can choose to be a supporter of muggleborns with yer gift, rather than oppose them. You said it yerself, yer first time bein’ a Parselmouth was when yeh tried to save someone.” Hagrid smiled. “That’s how yeh do somethin’ right.”

            “Yeah, you’re right, Hagrid. I mean, I had no choice in being born a brunet, have green eyes, be gay, or…” Harry ranted, but then immediately froze, as Hagrid, crossed his arms, sat back in his seat and barely contained his laughter. “Uh…” Harry eloquently put it.

            “Well, I suppose Malfoy is a handsome young lad.” Hagrid added after an entire minute of silence.

            “Draco?!” Harry looked insulted. “No way, he’s too… _blond_!” he sputtered, sending Hagrid into booming laughter.

            “Never change, Harry. Never change.” the half-giant wiped tears from his cheeks, still laughing. “And don’t mind the rumours about your snake-talking, they’ll die down eventually. People have a lot more on their minds that a twelve-year old who can speak with animals.” he added solemnly.

            “Thank you, Hagrid, that really helped.” Harry smiled.

           

            He finished his tea and left with a sizable portion of Hagrid’s delicious cookies, which he kept eating on the way back to his dorm. Upon arriving near the second floor, however, he found the floor wet. Water was dripping on all available surfaces, and a flashback on a dark night filled his mind with dread. Harry rushed down the corridor, flying at top speed, trying to find the source of it, keeping his head down for any reflection of the basilisk. Upon arriving to the wall with the message from the mysterious attacker, however, he saw that the water came from his left, from the lavatory.

            Even though it was a girl’s lavatory, Harry decided to enter, albeit slowly.

            “Hello? Anybody in here? There appears to be a flood of some sorts!” he said as he walked cautiously on the marble tiles, splashing water everywhere. The source came from the sinks, arranged in a cone of sorts, positively drowning with water. Harry shut them all off with a flick of his hand, and tried to investigate the left side with the toilets, but a ghostly figure stopped him dead in his tracks.

            “What are you doing here!” a spectral figure of a girl with huge glasses appeared right in front of his nose. “This is the _girl’s_ bathroom, not yours! GET OUT!” she screeched.

            “Hi…” Harry said with a weak voice, before his mind caught up with him and he remembered he knew this girl. “Myrtle, right?” he offered. “I’m Harry, Harry Potter. Pleasure to meet you.” he smiled.

            “Well, aren’t we a charmer.” she said sarcastically, but her coldness dropped considerably. “Why are you here? Come to spy on little girls?” she said with disgust.

            “Trust me, I would never do that.” Harry swore, and something in his tone must have conveyed the truth. “I just saw this water dripping down on the stairs and wanted to see if there was any trouble. Are you in any trouble, Myrtle?” Harry looked at her, and she positively _melted_.

            “Oh, I was just lying here, thinking about death…” Myrtle’s voice turned up a few pitches to a sickly-sweet tonality, as she lamented. “And then someone turned all of the faucets and… And then they threw something at me when I asked who’s there!” she cried.

            “That’s awful! And insensitive, considering it would go right through you!” Harry decided to play along.

            “Yes, it was!” Myrtle agreed, crying. “Why would somebody do something like that? I never hurt anybody!”

            “What did they throw at you?” Harry asked, looking around, but Myrtle pointed out helpfully towards the end of the rows of cubicles, in the right corner.

            “It’s right there.” she said with a grave tone, and Harry tried his best not to rush to it. “It’s just an old book.” she commented, and indeed she was right.

            The object in question was a blank notebook, which when taken out of the water immediately dried, like it was hydrophobic material, or something. There was absolutely nothing inside of it, no clue to who it belonged to, except a small inscription on the back cover – TMR, inscribed with cursive letters on leather.

            But the strange part of about it was the weird sensation Harry had when he came in contact with it, the hairs on his back raising and this empty, cold feeling in his chest started to wisp inside his lungs, and something like… longing? And desire. Above all else, Harry got the strange feeling of desire from the notebook. But a desire to do what?

            “… good waste of paper, if you ask me!” Myrtles ranting brought Harry back from his reverie.

            “Did you happen to see who it was, Myrtle?” Harry shook his head and put the suspiciously dry notebook in his coat pocket.

            “No.” she shook her head and looked dejected at disappointing Harry. “But I bet it’s that _creep_ that’s been coming around here lately!”

            Which… Pause. What?

            “I’m sorry? Someone has been coming here periodically?” Harry remembered a discussion between Hermione and Hannah complaining that they could never use the second-floor bathroom because Moaning Myrtle haunted it to no end and it stressed everybody out when they tried to relieve themselves and heard the crying of a ghost. Not to mention the absolute horror if she was hiding in a toilet and someone peed on her was enough to keep everyone away.

            “Yes! And I never saw them! Somehow, they managed to avoid whenever I was around here, but I know someone has been, because the last stall on the right has been closed and spelled to keep anything out! It’s been happening for a month!” Myrtle complained.

            Intrigued, Harry went to the stall and found it completely locked. It wouldn’t budge, not one inch, and indeed there was some form of spell around the area. Deciding it was enough, Harry used his magic to override the lock, and sure enough, the audible click could be heard a few moments later.

            “Oooh, looks like someone is quite the wizard.” Myrtle regained her sweet voice and batted her eyelashes.

            “Thank you, you’re very kind.” Harry charmed her with his smile, before entering the stall.

            On top of the closed lid was a cauldron, a seemingly unimportant one, above a turned-off burner. In front of it was a glass of… something. The substance, barely any at the bottom, looked golden, but whatever it was in the cauldron looked like mud, murky and chunky, not at all like the contents in front of it.

            “Oh, my!” Myrtle gasped from somewhere above Harry’s shoulder, right next to his ear, making him jump slightly in surprise, and the ghost tittered at his reaction. “Looks like _someone_ has been brewing Polyjuice Potion in secret, right under my nose.”

            “I think you may be right.” Harry had to give it to her, she was right on the nose with her deduction.

            “I was a bit of a Potion prodigy back when… back when…” she started sniffling.

            “It’s alright, Myrtle. You don’t have to say it.” Harry genuinely felt sorry for the girl, and she wiped non-existent tears from her cheeks with her spectral sleeve. “Who do you think is in the glass, then?” the boy changed the subject.

            “No idea, but they look delicious.” Myrtle had a look on her face that Harry never wanted to see again. “It usually takes the colour and taste deserving of the person you’re trying to change into.” she explained. “And there’s only one way to find out who it is.” she said with mirth.

            Harry groaned internally, curiosity taking the better of him, and not even the Hermione-like voice inside his head could stop him before taking the glass in his hand.

            “You’ll call for help if I get poisoned or something, right?” Harry regarded Myrtle with a look, as he prepared himself.

            “No promises.” she giggled.

            “Oh, well, I had a good run. Cheers.” he deadpanned as he took a big breath and downed the remains of the potion from the glass.

            He might as well have been drinking water, because the potion had absolutely no taste, and once a few seconds had passed, there was nothing happening. Harry went to inspect himself in the closes mirror on the sink column, but he looked just as he did a few seconds ago.

            “Maybe it wasn’t brewed correctly? Or it wasn’t a high enough dose for it to work.” Harry contemplated out loud.

            “Could be, but I still think you were _very brave_ to try it, nonetheless.” Myrtle floated to him.

            “Thank you. I must go now, but if I find out who threw the book or made the Polyjuice, I’ll let you know.” Harry began his retreat. “You’ve been very helpful, Myrtle.”

            “Come back any time, Harry.” Myrtle _winked_ at him and then disappeared in the bathroom as Harry made his hurried exit.

           

            The entire thing just flashed inside his mind on repeat. Snape was right, someone had stolen the ingredients and made the potion, but to impersonate whom? And to what end? And then there was the mystery notebook, which was still blank and had no business randomly finding itself in a girl’s bathroom. Could they have been two different people? The one who made the potion and the one who threw the book at the world’s most sorrowful ghost?

            But that was a bit ridiculous. What were the chances of there being two different people in the same remote place with two different purposes? What was the notebook? The details on how to brew the Polyjuice? Hidden from prying eyes with some sort of spell? Was there any connection to the two?

            These questions plagued Harry, as he took his normal path towards the Room, his legs carrying him automatically. He didn’t even notice something was amiss when he entered the living room.

            “You guys aren’t going to believe this, but I think I found…” he started speaking the second he came inside, but found that his friends weren’t there. He pocketed back the notebook, and tried to find his phone to call them, but then he saw it.

 

            He wasn’t alone.

            Another figure, a very familiar one, stood up from the chair Harry used and made its way to him, as he was rooted to the spot, trying to process what his eyes would have him believe. The person stopped a few metres away, smiling slightly in his direction, and Harry had to comb through thousands of explanations that his mind was supplying, short-circuiting on every one, because there was no plausible explanation for it, no right way of coming up with a logical conclusion.

            The shock didn’t let him realise who it was at first, because the sheer explosion his mind was going through at the moment left him too rattled. But then he discovered he knew who was standing in front of him. Because he had seen him earlier, just five minutes prior.

            _In the mirror_.

 

            “Hello.” not-Harry greeted with Harry’s voice, looking innocently.

            “You… you’re the one who used the Polyjuice Potion that was being brewed in Myrtle’s bathroom!” Harry found his voice, which most certainly did _not_ sound like the imposter’s.

            “Ah, I’ve see you finally found it.” not-Harry replied airily, looking entirely too relaxed.

            “That’s why it didn’t work when I drank it!” Harry clicked his fingers. “It was _me_ in the Potion, of course it wouldn’t work!”

            “You drank it? Awfully brave of you.” not-Harry smiled.

            “Who are you? How did you get in here?” Harry questioned the intruder, preparing to attack at any second, circling around, as the fake did the same in the opposite direction, literally mirroring him.

            “You’ve set this place to only allow friends in the know how to enter. How could I enter otherwise?” not-Harry mused, looking around for a bit, and even though the non-threatening demeanour was present, Harry didn’t buy it.

            “So you’re a friend then? Then why hide behind my face? Why all the secrets and cryptic behaviour? Better yet, why anything in the first place… R?” Harry asked the intruder, finally figuring it out.

            “I’ve always liked this about you, Harry, you’re smart, but you’re also open to new possibilities.” R smiled with Harry’s face.

            “And yet you’re dodging the question.” Harry remarked.

            “I have been watching you for some time.” R continued in the same tone. “I want to help you. So I provide little hints now and then. Things are as easier as they are harder this time.”

            “Meaning?” Harry flared his nostrils.

            “That as cunning as you are you are in need of some assistance every once in a while. I provide that assistance. I told you to be careful around the castle, because you never know who might be watching, I told you to be mindful of Lockhart, I told you to run when the basilisk was first released and I told you how to unlock the Marauder’s Map.” R recited.

            “And exactly how do you know how to do all of that?” Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

            “I cannot tell you. Not yet, anyway.” R shook his head. “It would create quite a mess this early on.”

            “But if you knew about the basilisk, then why didn’t you warn me or anybody else before?” Harry accused the stranger. “You could’ve helped us reach Collin in time! Or even Mrs Norris!”

            “Or Nearly-Headless-Nick and Justin Flint-Fletchley.” R said, and Harry’s blood ran cold. “Sadly, it has already happened. Do not worry, they are only Petrified, as with the last two. And while I have a unique perspective, I cannot claim to know everything, nor can I tell you all of it just yet. It is you who has to make the journey, I simply point out the way.” he finished with a solemn tone.

            “Bullshit. You just enjoy the mystery.” Harry accused, angry at the thought that someone else has been attacked by the basilisk and R did nothing to help. “You could’ve intervened.”

            “And risked your death, or worse, the death of your friends along with you.” R pointed out. “And I wish I could help you find out who it was that opened the Chamber this time, but sadly, I do not know.” he was actually sorrowful at that.

            “Then why come here? Why the charades?” Harry asked.

            “I wanted to introduce myself.” R smiled sadly.

            “You’re doing a very poor job of it so far.” Harry raised an eyebrow and huffed dismissively.

            “I know, and I am sorry. But to reveal myself would do more harm than good right now.” R continued. “My task is to help you, but to do so, you have to remain in the dark. At least for the time being.”

            “WHY?” Harry roared. “Why can’t I just get some bloody answers for a change? Why does everything have to be so complicated?” he cried with frustration.

            “The same reason Nicholas Flamel was acting strange when you met him, the same reason you are capable of much more than everybody else, why you are a wandlesser, why your friends are too, why some of them are already Elementals, why they are descendants of powerful, ancient wizards and witches, why you were all drawn together in the first place…” R spoke with a serene voice.

            “Already Elementals? Does that mean…?” Harry was more confused than ever.

            “You must have realised by now that there are very few coincidences regarding you and your friends, and that there is more than meets the eye when you think about it.” R smiled. “But this isn’t the time to tell you the absolute truth. To do so would be disastrous. There will come a moment when you are aware of everything, but when it does, Harry, it won’t be necessarily good.” R warned.

            “How?” Harry barely contained himself.

            “There are things about you that you will wish you could unlearn. But that is for another day, which will come much sooner than you think. For now, just remember to always rely on your friends and protect each other. You’ll be facing much worse than a basilisk in the days to come.” R cryptically announced.

            “You mean Voldemort.” Harry realised.

            “He is a much greater threat than you realise.” R agreed. “And stopping him will be more difficult than you think.”

            “So, I have a greater purpose, the existence of my powers, the powers of my friends, the powers they _will_ have and what I am… They’re all connected?” the boy asked.

            “Very much so, yes. I will help however I can, when I can. You are in no danger from me, that I can promise you.” R declared.

            “How can you expect me to trust you when you don’t even show your face?” Harry shook his head and gestured with his hand.

            “I can only offer assistance. Whether you follow up on it is entirely up to you, although I do recommend you take my advice.” R replied.

            “We’re just going in circles.” Harry blew an exasperated breath and stopped moving.

            “We have, didn’t we?” R looked amused as they stopped as well, having circled around each other for a few minutes. “In more ways than one, it seems.” they looked at where they were standing, opposite of where they were when Harry entered the Room earlier.

            “I know you, don’t I?” Harry spoke after a second of silence. “I know your true face. I have seen it, otherwise you wouldn’t wear mine right now. You’re not hiding because of some grand plan in action, you’re hiding because you’re scared of how I would react if I knew.”

            “That is part of it.” R chuckled. “I am human, after all. Or something of the sort.” they sighed. “We will speak some other time.” R made a motion to leave.

            “What’s to stop me from just trapping you here until the Polyjuice Potion wears off?” Harry clenched his fists and jaw.

            “Nothing, really. But I’m hoping you won’t. I only seek to help you, after all.” R spoke evenly, and walked towards the exit, as Harry watched with trembling hands as the door opened and closed on his back, and his somewhat stalker left him a mess of emotions and dark thoughts of just what the hell had happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go, an actual conversation face-to-face with R themselves! Or, rather, Harry's face. It was the only way for them to have this one-on-one together, if R wore any other face it wouldn't have been the same. And R knows more than you'd think, they are aware of Harry's true purpose and has some answers that Harry desperately needs but cannot know yet, and it's equally frustrating being both Harry and R in this scene; neither can give the other what they want, but they will have to trust each other later on.
> 
> This chapter touches on something that I have been struggling with all my life, and that is the process of growing up, of realising that some things cannot be forced, like maturity and experience are not things you can just have on a whim, they come with time and they have to come naturally, and it's a lesson Harry has to learn as well. His eagerness to push things further with abandon and just reach the moment when everything is all right is an understandable one, and I myself go through that daily, but he, like myself, has to remind himself that the time in between does, indeed matter, like Snape points out. And really, I always saw Potions as more than just ingredient+ingredient+action=result, because it is a magical subject, and everything you put in a potion has a meaning behind it, and added up builds towards something greater.
> 
> Harry's anger comes bursting this chapter and it shows that everything you do has a consequence. He isn't infailable, he isn't invincible, he's just a kid with a lot to deal with. Luckily, he has a support group behind him. And those scenes with him and Neville alone, where they establish that they have this sort of casual intimacy, that they depend on one another, and Neville was affected the most by Harry's stupid stunt and Harry was in turn very afraid that he could lose a friend... It was too much, and the way they keep having these moments of quiet, when the world goes still and it's just them I LOVE IT SO MUCH. But it's also heartbreaking when Harry realises that his crush on Neville won't do any good right about now. Teenage love - I really don't miss it. 
> 
> Well, I shall see you all next time, I hope you're all having fun just like Myrtle was when flirting (ew) with Harry, and that you are prepared for what's to come.


	21. The Mysterious Diary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sudden visit from the ever-watching presence known as R throws Harry's mind into a loop, as he tries to understand just what it all means. But more importantly, there is one item recently acquired that needs further attention. Christmas just got strange.

            “Eight cameras up and down the hallway, five different detectors, three protection spells and one ancient enchantment and _still_ R made it past here undetected?” Hermione paced up and down the living room, while Hannah sat down with her arms crossed, Draco reviewed the footage for the millionth time, and Neville sat in between Hannah and Harry with a worried look on his face. “This is unacceptable, how in the world did he make it past all of that?”

            “Better yet, how did he make it past Artpy?” Draco muttered, watching the screen intently.

            “How do you know R is a ‘he’? They just took Harry’s liking, doesn’t mean anything.” Hannah pointed out.

            “Artpy, who else was with Harry in the Room five minutes ago?” Hermione asked.

            “ _Only mister Potter was inside the living area of the Room, miss Granger_.” Artpy replied unhelpfully.

            “Jesus bloody Christ, that’s not it!” Hermione screeched at the air. “There were two…” she winded down for a second, getting a thought. “Wait, biometrically speaking, there was only one individual in the room… Polyjuice Potion doesn’t simply change your appearance, it changes you on a molecular level as well, Artpy would have no way of detecting someone else if it was just the same person twice.” she went off on a Hermione-explanation. “We’re simply not asking the right question. Artpy, how many life-forms were in the room six minutes ago?” she asked with a triumphant smile on her face.

            “ _One: mister Potter_.” Artpy replied, and Hermione’s smile faltered instantly.

            “That can’t be right.” Neville remarked. “So, whoever R is, they’re not even alive?”

            “It gets weirder.” Draco announced, drawing everyone’s attention on him. “There is absolutely no footage of R arriving here. Prior to the real Potter entering the room, there is no one appearing anywhere in the vicinity, and while Artpy is fine-combing through it to make sure, no one suspicious near and around the second-floor girl’s bathroom.” he stroked his chin in deep thought. “It’s like whoever this is doesn’t even…”

            “Exist.” Hermione breathed. “This is unbelievable; a Notice-Me-Not Charm, so powerful it affects any detection from electronic devices? I would find it remarkable were it not for the fact that it’s working against us.”

            “That’s not possible.” Hannah countered, frowning. “Notice-Me-Not isn’t supposed to make you practically invisible, just direct attention away from you.”

            “Every spell that is granted more power than usual acts in ways we can’t predict. Maybe Granger is right.” Draco pointed out.

            “But to effectively become untraceable, even to a supercomputer with access to everything inside the castle?” Neville complained. “That’s not possible, not even…” he shot Harry a look, but then averted his gaze.

            “Not even I am capable of that much concealment, and I have an Invisibility Cloak.” Harry sighed. “Look, how R got here and how are they hiding isn’t important right now, what’s important is what they said!”

            “That we are all meant for _higher_ things? Please, there is at least one nutter thinking that about every famous person in the world, what makes us so special?” Hannah laughed.

            Harry crossed his arms and looked at her pointedly.

            “Need I remind you I’m prophesised to either defeat or be killed by the most powerful and dangerous Dark Lord in history?” the boy raised an eyebrow. “And I can do things no one else can? And two of you can do the same? And possibly the other two can as well?!” his voice went higher the more he talked.

            “We’ve been over this, Harry, there is no way…” Hermione started.

            “Four different Houses, four different elements, four different friends with two having the power over two different elements, a 1 in a million gift in the wizarding world, and the _only_ two people who have it just _happen_ to be two of my friends, while they’re the descendants of powerful wizards? And one other friend is another descendant of a powerful witch?” Harry stressed out.

            “I know where you’re getting at, Harry, and Hannah might well be an Earth Elemental…” Hermione rolled her eyes.

            “Come again?” Hannah looked shocked.

            “But I’m _clearly_ not descended from Rowena Ravenclaw, meaning there is no possible way for me to be an Air Elemental, because, like I said in May, it’s a genetic ability! There is zero chance for me to be one, making R’s claims false, or at the very least misinformed.”

            “Alright.” Harry said with a pointed tone. “Then explain to me how I can be a Parselmouth and have _zero_ connection to Salazar Slytherin.”

            Hermione opened her mouth to say something clever, but she stopped short when she found out she didn’t have a reply for that one.

            “He got you there.” Draco smirked.

            “Yes, he did.” Hermione had to admit, although begrudgingly. “Okay, I’ll give you that one, because I have no idea how to explain it, but it’s still more than unlikely that I’ll ever gain the ability to control air _with my mind_.” she reiterated.

            “Stranger things have happened.” Harry felt the need to say. “And R has knowledge, inside knowledge about things, some of which I _never_ said to anyone, and they’ve been right so far, so it’s short-sighted of us to not consider the possibility.”

            “What did they know that nobody else did?” Draco caught on.

            “Nick acted weird when we met, like he had known me for ages. Come to think of it, he acted like R did, like they’ve both known me for some time now.” Harry revealed.

            “You mean Nicholas Flamel? That one I think we can chalk it up to insanity – living for six centuries can do that to you.” Hermione made face.

            “Okay, back to me possibly being an _Earth_ elemental!” Hannah reclaimed the attention. “How did you even _deduce_ that?”

            “Isn’t it obvious?” Neville looked at her and then at everybody else, who had the same expression as him. “We’re descendants of the Founders, each founder has a coloured symbol, Gryffindor is a lion with red and gold – fire; Slytherin is a snake with green and silver – water; and Hufflepuff is a badger with yellow and black – earth.” he explained.

            “The hell…” Hannah scrunched up her face. “Isn’t water supposed to be blue and not green? Why isn’t Ravenclaw water and Slytherin earth, since it’s green?”

            “Because the badger signifies _the_ earth!” Hermione gestured wildly. “It literally burrows underground for shelter. Your House dorm is in the _basement_ , Hannah, how did this escape you?”

            “And there are such things as water snakes. And the Slytherin dorm is under the lake.” Draco pointed out.

            “Then explain to me Gryffindor tower!” Hannah stood her ground. “It’s up high, and I don’t see flying fire anytime soon!”

            “Oxygen, first of all.” Harry spoke out of turn. “And it faces south, meaning the sun hits it all day long.”

            “Unbelievable!” Hannah threw her hands up. “Even with my theoretical powers I have to deal with bloody _symbolism_!” she spat. “Any other thoughts the class would like to share?” she rubbed her eyes with one hand.

            “Well, there is the matter of where exactly R got a hold of a DNA sample from Harry.” Hermione sighed softly and turned to the board. “Anything, from skin cells, hairs, nails, dandruff…”

            “I don’t have dandruff!” Harry guffawed in a very undignified way.

            “Everybody has dandruff, Harry.” Hermione waved him off without looking at him. “However they did it, it must’ve been recent, or through some type of contact, like…”

            “You all area seriously not this dense right now.” Hannah smacked her lips in annoyance. “You can _theorise_ how each House symbolises and element and why, but _this_ misses you?”

            “We’re all clever in different ways, that’s how we work! Now out with it!” Neville pushed his knee on hers lightly.

            “There is an actual fucking vial of Harry Potter DNA deliciousness inside the castle right now, how did this not bloody occur to any of you?!” Hannah went off.

            “Which is?” Draco made a confused face.

            Hannah stared at them with a blank expression.

            “Ohhh!” Harry realised. “Oh, _ew_! My _blood_?!” he looked disgusted. “Eugh, _why_? No!” he retched.

            “It’s just blood, Harry!” Hannah looked unimpressed.

            “Which was _drank_ in order for someone to look exactly like me!” Harry gagged. “Tell me that’s not at the very least _wrong_!”

            “Okay, point taken.” Hannah shuddered just a little bit.

            “Artpy, is the sample Pomfrey took still available?” Hermione thought to ask.

            “ _Approximatively two thirds were used by madam Pomfrey in her testing, while the remaining third has been flagged as used approximatively 1 hour ago._ ”  Artpy replied.

            “I bet R sneaked into the Hospital Wing and took the remaining sample for the potion, if we can find that security footage…” Draco looked enthusiastic, but Neville shut him down.

            “And I bet you will find nothing more than what we have so far, because R got away with it for the same reason we can’t find them on tape anywhere in the castle and Artpy didn’t signal immediately that Harry’s vial of blood was used.” the blue-eyed boy breathed, making Draco snap his fingers with a lazy move, and point at him, mouth in a weird pout.

            “Why can’t you just support my dreams for once, Neville?” the blond whined.

           

            R’s sudden visit was the final shock that sent Harry into deep thought about it all. There was the thought, always in the back of his mind, that some things weren’t adding up entirely. He usually didn’t have time to ponder them, because there were more pressing matters to attend to at any given time. But now, with no leads in sight for their basilisk problem, and with the school finally coming to the sense that Harry wasn’t the attacker, because there was clear footage of him leaving the castle a good hour before Justin Flint-Fletchley and Nearly-Headless-Nick were attacked, there was nothing stopping Harry from spiralling down into the rabbit hole.

            Was there a higher force behind his actions? Was it the reason for his strange powers? And seeing that they only grew with each passing day, and that they surpassed most types of magic, if there was a higher force shepherding him, just what kind force was it? The absolute dread of something like that existing gave Harry existential nightmares, because if something _sentient_ was the reason he could do the things he did, it most definitely wanted something from him in return. Whether it was just defeating Voldemort, or something else entirely, it remained to be seen. Of course, R could be just as well be blowing smoke up his arse, and the reason for Harry’s powers were just the product of evolution and surviving the Killing Curse from a self-sacrifice, which was never recorded in history before.

            Then again, that didn’t explain how he made friends with two Elementals, both who happened to be his age, in his year, both descendants from ancient, powerful wizarding lines, a third such friend who was in the same situation, only without the extremely rare powers (for now, if Harry were to believe R) and a fourth friend, who didn’t have any of those things, but possessed an intellect that rivalled his, and even surpassed him in some areas.

            Hermione’s situation made Harry frown to no end. If by some absurdity R was right, then it meant that the bushy-haired girl wasn’t there just to provide her brain, but that she was an actual force of nature. And not in the ‘Hermione is not to be messed with’ kind of way, that part was already obvious, but in the sense that she was literally a power of nature itself; Elementals were wizards or witches that were so in tune with their magic, so much so that they could control one of the four magical elements. Magic was strongly tied to nature, and during the times of druids, they used it to make their spells, prior to the invention of the wand. It was old magic, far older than anything they studied at school. It was one of the reasons Elementals were so incredibly rare, one had to be born with the affinity for magic that didn’t require a wand, and much like physical traits, it was only through genetics that it passed. And seeing as they were all wandlessers, the chances of the girls being Elementals went up by a lot.

            Hannah could most likely be one, as she was Hufflepuff’s heir, a wandlesser, and control over Earth suited her, in the way that she always stood her ground and seemed almost unmoving in her convictions, steadfast and true, but would also seem stubborn and too headstrong, just like Draco always moved with elegance and fluidity, was prone to sudden change for the better, but could also become cold and dangerous on a moment’s notice, and Neville was fierce, brave, passionate and determined, but could be explosive, burst out without warning and inflict harm to anything in his path…

            Hermione, if Harry applied the same type of personality traits akin to an Element, was the odd woman out. She was just as headstrong and set in her convictions like Hannah, it seemed out of place to liken her to the effect of someone free and carefree, detached from the world. But then Harry remembered just how full of _life_ Hermione actually was, even though it didn’t seem like that at first. Her thirst for knowledge didn’t stem from her wanting to be the smartest, but from the desire to learn, to know everything there is to know, to enjoy the world as it is and experience it all to the best of her ability. And then there was her good-willed nature, her sharp wit, and also the way she was always loud without knowing it. Of course, she was also the silent storm in the making, the way she looked _dangerous_ when angry. The other three may have made Harry cautious when they were in a mood, but the thought of an unshackled Hermione made the hairs on his back raise, because _it never happened before_. Sure, the girl might yell and express her disapproval of their antics (before supporting them anyway, like a good friend) quite often, but so far she didn’t have one single moment of an outburst, she was always in control, and Harry _feared_ the day she wouldn’t be anymore. God save the poor soul that set her off in the end.

            Perhaps her being a Muggleborn was key? Even though it was one-hundred percent true that she couldn’t have been Rowena’s Heir, perhaps her being a witch in a family of muggles was their answer. There was this theory, floating around in some circles, outlandishly dismissed by most, that a Muggleborn was an individual so strongly tied to magic, that when born they didn’t need the genetic component of the parents to form a magical core, _it just appeared_. How and why were two questions that eluded everybody, meaning the theory wasn’t all that polished, but the thought remained. Magic, in essence, was the one thing, the one matter in the Universe that didn’t need a reason to exist, because it simply is, by definition. So perhaps Hermione existed as a witch because something in her was so strongly tied to magic that it allowed her to be one even though all reason forbade it. And maybe that something could allow her to be the powerful witch R spoke of.

            And at the core of it was him, just Harry, who only wanted to do what was right and protect his friends and the ones he cared about, even if that meant going up against dangerous, powerful people. Was that sense of right just a product of someone’s design? Were his friendships nothing more than convenience for the aforementioned someone in the grand scheme of things? Did he even have a choice?

            A small voice inside his brain told him, that yes, he did have a choice, he could just turn a blind eye and leave everything to fate. But then he’d have the suffering of innocents on his conscience, their blood on his hands, and where would that leave him; just a coward, who would rather stubbornly refuse some destined path rather than use it to his advantage.

            In the end, the truth of the matter wasn’t all that important, the how and why were things he would get to in the end, he knew he would, but if his apparent purpose was to help protect the innocent and destroy those that would harm them, he could deal with it. There were worst fates to be had.

 

            The sudden attack of Justin and the Gryffindor ghost sent the school in to a frenzy, students left and right clamouring to leave the school for Christmas. If Harry didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought they were leaving for good. Of course, no one wanted that, no one wanted to leave Hogwarts forever. Dumbledore went as far as to get the Ministry involved in the security of the place, calling for Aurors, detectives and whatnot. But they uncovered as about as much as could be expected, meaning nothing.

            Harry left the train station with four sad expressions in his wake, as his friends suddenly realised that he would be alone for Christmas this year, for the first time in his life. He tried to point out that it wasn’t that important, he had a job to do after all, and that he’ll see them soon, after winter break.

            It wasn’t pleasant by any means, staying behind as the others had to leave, but finding the Chamber of Secrets was imperative. The Map didn’t show anything of the sort inside the castle, maybe because like the Room, the Marauders didn’t find it, or it was like the castle itself and it was unplottable. Which should give him an idea about just how paranoid Salazar Slytherin was, making a secret chamber that was unfindable in an already unfindable location.

 

            The empty castle made for a dreary setting, as the silence filled the halls and weighed heavily on Harry’s ears. He was alone, the only remaining student, only accompanied by ghosts and the odd teacher that stayed for the holidays. It was oddly freeing and saddening at the same time.

            So as he got to the Grand Staircase, Harry decided to fly to the seventh floor, rather than walk the stairs, and in a few seconds, he was already on the landing.

            “Well, that was anticlimactic.” he remarked after. “And I’m already talking with myself.” he shook his head, continuing to fly towards the Room. “Artpy, any luck finding something on the Map regarding the possible location of the Chamber?” he asked upon entering.

            “ _I cannot determine a fixed location without more data, mister Potter_.” the computer prompted.

            “Try by using the locations of each attack, see if there is a pattern or an area of activity. Overlap it with the sections of the Map and the security feeds that stopped working, see if they collide.” he lied down on the couch.

            “ _Done. Eight thousand possible locations found._ ” Artpy announced.

            “What?” Harry stood on his forearms. “How is that remotely possible?”

            “ _The filters selected cover the entire eastern side of Hogwarts, on every possible floor and room._ ”

            “And with every secret passage and whatnot, an entire half of the castle is still too wide a scope.” Harry sighed, lying back down. “Keep trying to determine the only solution available, Artpy. Good job so far.”

            “ _Compiling a single result from so many options will take time, mister Potter. Every possible location must be analysed thoroughly._ ” Artpy warned him.

            “Do it. However long it takes.” Harry ordered. “While you do that, I want you to have a look at this.” he declared, taking out the notebook from his bag. “I found it in Myrtle’s bathroom, in a very large puddle, but it came out unscathed to say the least. What’s more, there’s something really weird about it, I was hoping you could help me with figuring it out.” Harry said.

            “ _I will need an accurate measurement. Please place the object which you want analysed on the ARTP Hardware Interface._ ”

            “Bloody… Hang on!” Harry groaned, standing up and flying at high speed to the desk in the gym. He was getting used to moving around in seconds with his powers. “Alright, anything from it?” he said, placing the notebook on the desk, as a blue rectangle appeared around it from the surface of the furniture.

            “ _Scans indicate a standard A5 size moleskin notebook, never been used._ ” Artpy revealed.

            “Yes, but it’s not new, is it? Looks like it suffered some wear.” Harry contemplated, as the rectangle shined with a pulsing light and the boy sat down in a chair with his legs on the desk.

            “ _Correct, preliminary observations suggest that this notebook in particular is at the very most two years old_.” Artpy continued.

            “But?” Harry raised an eyebrow, sensing something was on her… well, on her RAM. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

            “ _The binding of the cover does not correspond with the apparent age of the notebook._ ” Artpy explained.

            “The glue, you mean? At least, I assume it’s glue.” Harry scrunched up his face.

            “ _Correct. The polyvinyl acetate, more commonly known as PVA or glue, contains traces of mercury I salt. However, it was at the start of the industrialisation of PVA that the adding of acetic acid to acetylene with mercury salt was used. In recent years, obtaining PVA is entirely consisted of palladium catalysed oxidative addition of acetic acid to ethylene._ ” Artpy blasted of with a bunch of chemistry notions that Harry had trouble keeping up with.

            “Meaning this book is far older than it seems.” the boy realised.

            “ _Yes, by about 50 years, mister Potter._ ”

            “Well, we know it’s durable, it survived water damage just fine. Any magic on it?”

            At this, the rectangle turned red, and Artpy raised a glass prison on it, as a faint alarm could be heard.

            “ _Unquantifiable levels of Dark Magic detected, beginning cleansing._ ” she announced, and before Harry could protest, the inside of the cube was drowned in flames for a good ten seconds, before it stopped entirely. But the notebook just stood there, like before. “ _Warning, object has not been destroyed, commencing Level Alpha security measure._ ”

            “Stop!” Harry finally said something. “Countermand it, admin authority!” he breathed in horror, because Level Alpha was a drastic last resort if Artpy detected _severe_ life-threatening situations within range of her servers.

            “ _Voice print accepted. Countermanding measure._ ”

            “How about _before_ we blow ourselves up with devastating magical blasts we _ask_ first?” Harry chided the computer. “Damn…” he rubbed his eyes.

            “ _Apologies, mister Potter. Extreme action was required. I will reassess._ ” Artpy apologised.

            “First of all, extend the countdown to 10 seconds instead of 5, and second of all, before you destroy anything, you need to tell me _exactly_ why.” Harry ordered firmly.

            “ _Levels of Dark Magic were beyond the natural parameters a magical individual can be exposed to without harm._ ” Artpy rationalised. “ _Imperative action was necessary._ ”

            “Well, I’m a bloody strong wizard who has taken a Killing Curse to the forehead and lived, remove the damn shield, I’ve been carrying it around with me for the last week, I’m fine.” Harry rolled his eyes, as Artpy complied. “Now, is there anything in your database that can indicate just _what_ that notebook is?” he eyed it cautiously.

            “ _Nothing on my files or online. There is no available record of any object exceeding 100.000 DMUs._ ” Artpy declared.

            “That’s it?” Harry looked irritated. “100.000 Magical Units, even Dark Magical Units, is not _that_ much, if it’s an object that is imbued with magic, meaning it doesn’t lose its power unless it is used. Hell, _I_ used a total of MUs far exceeding that during my simulated combat on Auror level, why is this a problem?”

            “ _The total level of magical power you displayed, mister Potter, is a simple matter of arithmetic. What I meant was that the current output of the notebook exceeded 100.000 DMUs. My counter only goes so high._ ” Artpy reformulated.

            “Oh.” Harry suddenly got it. “So this thing has more power just _sitting_ there than what I could do before I fainted from exhaustion?”

            “ _Much more. Again, I do not have an accurate measurement, there is nothing this small that can reach this level of power without disintegrating._ ”

            “Charming.” Harry gave a short laugh. “I don’t suppose you can rip out a page and analyse it more thoroughly than what you already have?” he suggested.

            “ _The book appears to be indestructible so far, mister Potter._ ” Artpy almost sighed.

            “Great, just what I needed.” Harry threw his hands up. “A strange Dark Object that’s more powerful than anything on record, inside the school, _while_ there’s attacks from a basilisk that’s been Petrifying everybody…” Harry stopped suddenly mid-rant, as he remembered R’s words about coincidences. “Wait… Wait a fucking second!” he stood up and got closer to the unremarkable notebook. “ _This is it_! Artpy, we have it!” he sounded joyous.

            “ _We have what, mister Potter?_ ” Artpy asked.

            “This thing didn’t just happen to be here at the same time as the basilisk got loose, the basilisk is loose _because_ of this! This is too big a coincidence not to be related.” Harry realised. “If it didn’t have this Dark Magic on it, I wouldn’t have even guessed, but I’m assuming that whatever is inside of it, whatever power it holds, it has the knowledge to open the Chamber and release the monster within it, _control_ it even! That’s how Lucius’ helper did it! It’s impossible that just giving out the location could do it, you’d have to direct the basilisk towards muggleborns, which means the helper has to be a Parselmouth, but that’s impossible without the book, because the only other one besides me is…” Harry’s smile faltered as he came to a very troubling conclusion.

            He took a step back from the notebook, trembling down to his socks, as his heart threatened to short-circuit and his mind to shut down. His lungs couldn’t work anymore, as he stared with absolute horror at the unmoving object.

            “ _Mister Potter, your pulse rate and blood pressure went up, is everything alright?_ ” Artpy asked.

            “TMR.” Harry breathed finally. “Tom M-something Riddle. Artpy, I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but I think, without a doubt, that we found Voldemort’s _diary_.” he realised with a very strange thought, as the image of the Dark Lord writing in a book his thoughts and dreams like a teenager sounded bizarre indeed. But then again, if inside of it was the details on how to open the Chamber and use the basilisk, then of course he would write it down. For someone to continue his work in his absence. Harry doubted that Voldemort would ever have children, ever form a connection to someone, even just sexually, to conceive a child. So, this was his legacy, this ordinary book with the power to kill.

            “ _Mister Potter, there is a record of a Tom Marvolo Riddle in the Hogwarts archive. He has an award for ‘special services to the school’_.” Artpy finally had something to go on.

            “Can you tell me the time period in which he went to school?” Harry asked, but he already knew the answer, having it guessed months ago in an impromptu meeting with his friends in July.

            “ _1958 to 1965._ ” Artpy replied.

            “And the last attacks happened in 1963, making him a fifth year.” Harry stroked his chin and paced for a few seconds. “I knew he was responsible, but this notebook being as old as the time in which he went here, _and_ being imbued with who knows how much dark magic, appearing only after the attacks started again proves that it was his.”

            “ _Technically speaking, your evidence is only circumstantial, mister Potter._ ” Artpy pointed out.

            “Do you trust me, Artpy?” Harry chuckled short.

            “ _It is within my programming to trust you completely, mister Potter._ ”

            “Then believe when I say it’s his. I’ve dealt with his tricks before, I know how he operates, hidden in plain sight. And really, who else would you equate the amount of Dark Magic inside of that diary?” he argued.

            “ _Then your assumptions may be correct, mister Potter._ ” the computer agreed.

            “Good. I’ll need your help in discovering just how it works, but we’ll have to be careful, I don’t know what it will do.” Harry looked at it with a strange feeling in his chest. “Keep this just between us, Artpy, lock down any mention of the conversations about the diary; access level X only.” he decided.

            “ _Security certifications set. Are you sure, mister Potter?_ ” Artpy said.

            “I have no choice.” Harry sighed. “If my friends find out that we have a veritable part of Lord Voldemort in here they will want to study it, and until I know it’s safe to use, nobody else can know about it, do you understand?” he gestured wildly. “I won’t place them in danger. If anything happens to me _then_ you can lower the security on it and enact authority transference protocols.” he commanded.

            “ _Parameters set. Mister Potter, the authority transference protocols require a second-in-command structure be enacted. Would you like to set it up now?_ ”

            “Do I have to sort my friends by who I think is more capable of leading in my absence?” Harry whined at the air, spinning around in the chair.

            “ _It is a matter of practicality, mister Potter._ ” Artpy replied.

            “Fine, fine…” Harry groaned. “Have Neville be set as my second in case I’m not available.” he said without thinking. “And Hermione as third. I don’t care if Draco and Hannah feel insulted or something, they bloody well know Hermione is way more responsible than they are, and somebody needs to keep them in check.” the boy rationalised his decisions. “But don’t tell them that, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

            “ _Access level X added to authority transference protocols._ ” Artpy followed his wishes.

 

            It was easier said than done, because spending his days flying around the eastern side of castle brought him nothing but dust in his nostrils from fingering the walls so much. It got so bad that he had to resort to using a bubble-head spell on himself to filter out the air, making him look like a spectral fish-bowl floating around the hallways.

            And Voldemort’s diary was giving him literal headaches, because no matter what little Artpy allowed him to try, it wouldn’t budge. He tried spelling it, tried adding to the magic, tried to even _draw_ magic from it, after enacting administrator rights on Artpy to leave him be, but nothing worked.

            Except for the night on Christmas Eve.

 

            Harry was at his desk in his bedroom, staring at the diary with hatred in his eyes, drinking from a glass of juice. He had been trying to get the damn book to say something, reveal anything to him, but it was for nought.

            “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you.” he talked to the object. “You know damn well once I find out how you work you will spill every damn secret you have inside of you.” he narrowed his eyes. “Bloody useless!” he gesticulated wildly, forgetting that he had the glass juice in hand, and spilled some of it on the open notebook. “Shit…” he cursed, wiping the desk clean. “ _Scour –_ “ he made a motion with his hand, but stopped halfway when he saw that the pages _absorbed_ the liquid immediately, like there was no spillage earlier. “Wait, you’re impervious to any type of damage, but taking things in?” Harry looked dumbfounded for a second, before he immediately called his pen from his bag with a flick of his fingers. “Here goes.” he breathed heavily. “My… name… is… Harry… Potter.” he started writing.

            For second, nothing, his own words just started back at him, glistening in the light of his lamp. Then, they disappeared into nothing, as a more elegant and flowy cursive appeared in its stead.

            _Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle._

            “Okay…” Harry had trouble breathing. “Okay, I’m speaking with Voldemort, this is fine, I’m fine.” he lied to himself. “Do… you… know… anything…about the… Chamber… of… Secrets?” he wrote.

            _Yes._ , was the response.

            “Can… you… tell… me?” Harry wrote with a shaking hand.

            _No._

            “Of course not, why would anyone make it easier on me?” Harry clicked his tongue, preparing to write a string of carefully selected swears, when Riddle wrote something else.

            _But I can show you._

            “How?” Harry wrote, desperate for an answer.

            _Let me take you back, fifty years ago, to when the Chamber first opened._

            Harry contemplated this course of action, because he was deliberately about to let Voldemort show him _his_ accounts of the tale.

            _Let me show you._

            “Okay.” Harry wrote.

            Instantly, the diary shone brightly, and Harry felt himself being sucked through a very narrow straw, as the floor and the chair left his body, the room around him changed as a falling feeling swam in his brain, before finally, a couple of seconds later, landing in a dark corridor.

            “What the fuck?” Harry breathed, trying to figure out how in the world did he end up in front of what looked like the Great Hall doors, judging by the familiar woodwork.

            Multiple sources of light went on as someone came from behind him, but these weren’t the wall lamps the boy had grown accustomed to, but actual _torches_ with flames. They didn’t do a very good job of lighting up the surroundings, but they did their part just enough so that Harry could see the newcomer was a handsome young man with a Prefect badge on his chest, dark hair and icy-blue eyes, with a piercing look, and high cheekbones that could cut through glass. His defined jaw was clenched to the extreme, and he had this sort of frown on his face as he walked past Harry. But he had never seen this boy before at school, and he would’ve definitely remembered this guy.

            “Hey, can you tell me…” Harry spoke, but the boy ignored him, and kept walking. “Wow, rude much?” he called out after the boy. “Hey! I’m talking to you, you big…” his words died on his lips, as he followed the boy to the Giant Staircase and came into view with a strange group of people.

            One of them was definitely Dumbledore, but this one had less of a beard and more auburn in his hair that what Harry saw at breakfast this morning. The other two were strangers, but they were dressed in white robes and carried with them a stretcher that was covered up with a tarp. The horror that went through Harry when he saw the pale-looking hand dangling from the stretcher was indescribable.

            “Professor Dumbledore, sir.” the boy spoke in a weird tone.

            “Evening, Tom.” the Headmaster replied gravely.

            Harry’s mind came to a screeching halt as he finally realised that this was Voldemort’s _memories_ , and that was a younger Dumbledore with a much younger Tom Riddle. And bloody hell, Harry had considered Riddle _attractive_ for a second there. The Dark Lord. Attractive. Harry wanted to puke.

            “It is not wise to be wandering at such an hour, Tom.” Dumbledore continued, sounding just the tiniest bit _aggressive_ , something Harry had never heard the man ever being.

            “No, of course not.” Riddle said sheepishly. “I guess I just wanted to see for myself, if the rumours were true.”

            “I’m afraid they are, Tom.” Dumbledore clasped his hands in his robe sleeves.

            “And about the school as well?” Riddle stood straight and deferentially, but his voice wavered, like he was actually _fearful_ for a moment there, like there was an actual human being behind the monster that would come. “I don’t have a home to go to, they wouldn’t actually close the school now, would they?” Riddle continued, and for the briefest moment, Harry was actually sorry for him, if not for the fact that he knew that the student that passed him on the stretcher was dead because of this seemingly polite young man.

            “I know, Tom. But I’m afraid that Headmaster Dippet will have no choice in the matter.” Dumbledore retorted.

            “Said the person responsible was caught, and the attacks stopped. What then?” Riddle tried once more.

            “Is there something you wish to tell me?” Dumbledore paused for a second before taking a step forward.

            “No, sir. Nothing.” Riddle replied simply, blinking innocently, but Dumbledore looked unconvinced, and Harry knew better than to trust him. He wanted to scream at Dumbledore to lock the fifth-year up and throw away the key, but it would be in vain, as this was just a memory, and doing anything other than observing might alert the diary that he was aware of who Riddle actually was.

            “Very well then. Off you go.” Dumbledore had no choice but to dismiss the boy.

            “Goodnight, sir.” Riddle swallowed and went on his way, with Harry hot on his trail.

            The young Dark Lord walked with decisive steps towards the dungeons, and Harry had trouble keeping up with the much longer legs than his, and using his powers inside a memory could’ve been bad for him, so he had to simply jog behind.

            Riddle came to a door to an old room, wiggled his fingers, and opened it. Inside was a hulking mass of a man, larger than the both of them combined, but much younger and less hairy than Harry knew him, fifty years from now. Gosh, was Hagrid _old_.

            “Evening, Rubeus.” Riddle greeted coldly and Hagrid closed the trunk he was talking to earlier, _loudly_. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to turn you in.” which… what? The hell did _Hagrid_ had to do with this load of bollocks? “I don’t think you meant it to hurt anyone, but I have no choice.”

            “You can’t, you don’t understand!” Hagrid pleaded.

            “The dead girl’s parents will be here tomorrow, the least Hogwarts could do is make sure that the thing that killed her is _slaughtered_.” the earliest wisps of the Dark Lord finally surfaced.

            “You can’t! Aragog never killed no one, never!” Hagrid was nearly in tears.

            “Monsters don’t make for very good pets, Hagrid.” Riddle admonished him, and Harry wanted to punch the boy.

            “Please…” Hagrid begged.

            “Stand aside, Hagrid.” Riddle commanded, raising his hand, and Harry felt the need to throw him away from his friend.

            “No.” Hagrid shook his head with a terrorised look in his face.

            “Stand aside, Hagrid!” Riddle repeated.

            “NO!” Hagrid tried to move in front of the trunk, but Riddle was too fast.

            “ _Cistem Aperio!_ ” he made the lid of the trunk disappear in a cloud of smoke, as a _spider_ , as big as a dog, crawled at high speed out of it, clicking right past Harry. “ _Arania Exumai!_ ” Riddle casted after the spider, but missed it by an inch, as it crawled right in the shadows, disappearing.

            “Aragog! Aragog!” Hagrid wanted to chase after it, but Riddle stopped him.

            “I can’t let you go, Hagrid. They’ll have your wand for this. You’ll be expelled, Hagrid.” Riddle threatened.

            “Hagrid!” Harry yelled, but the scene started to dissolve before he could do anything. “HAGRID!” he roared, but a second later, he was thrown back into his own time, back in his chair, like nothing had happened.

 

            He got up and tried to calm his heart and settle his erratic breathing, as the scene played over and over in his mind, and he had to remember that Hagrid was just fine, that Riddle didn’t kill him back then, fifty years ago. But what he did was much worse.

            “You fucking piece of shit.” he gritted his teeth at the diary, trying with all his willpower to not decimate it, lest he just destroy his desk. “You killed that girl and you blamed Hagrid, who has _never_ , in his life, ever hurt anyone! You took the one innocent person and got him expelled, his wand snapped so that you didn’t have to feel the consequences, you hateful, self-serving, fucking bastard!” he yelled at the book, who didn’t write a response this time. “The next time I see you, I’m going to make you _wish_ your mother never opened her legs for your father in the first place, because I am going to inflict so much pain on you, you will think what your followers did to Neville’s parents was child’s play!” he vowed, unable to contain his anger anymore.

            And there he had it, after years of wondering, the reason for Hagrid’s expulsion and the meaning behind it. Dumbledore had likely intervened at some point, because the half-giant was still the groundskeeper, but lacking solid evidence, couldn’t do anything about his loss of education. And Tom Riddle got a freaking _medal_ for doing basically nothing, except point a finger and fire some spells. He played everyone that was desperate for a culprit and pointed out the, in their eyes, _half-breed_ , with a tendency towards dangerous creatures. They didn’t see past the genetics, or even understand that Hagrid’s love for any type of animal in this world came from compassion and from loneliness and from a place of empathy towards those deemed scary by the common folk, not because he was evil. But when everyone had someone to blame, they took it and never looked back.

            But not Dumbledore. No, the Headmaster knew the truth, or at least the truth about Hagrid, and didn’t let him down, didn’t let the injustice go further, and that’s why Hagrid admired the man so much, because he did the right thing and _trusted_ in him when no one else would.

            The hatred Harry had for Voldemort as a person couldn’t be described in words that humans are capable of. But now it increased ten-fold, because the unfairness of it all, the sheer _wickedness_ was too much, and if he ever had any reservations about killing him, those disappeared for all eternity. At the next opportunity, Harry would absolutely destroy the Dark Lord.

 

            He broke out of his reverie, turning around to go in the living room for some TV time to clear his head and calm his nerves. But upon entering, he discovered that it had changed drastically in the last couple of minutes, as a giant Christmas tree was suddenly propped next to the fireplace, ten different kinds of garlands hanging from every wall and thousands of lights strung from the celling, reaching down like some sort of vine.

            And that wasn’t even the weird part.

            “Didn’t I just put you on a train a few days ago?” Harry had to blink a few times, as Neville, Hermione, Hannah and Draco all turned around from their decorating of the gigantic tree to see their friend frozen on the spot.

            “Oh!” Hannah exclaimed. “Hi, mate! You weren’t supposed to see this.” she laughed awkwardly.

            “Yes, the very flashy ornaments and baubles are to be invisible, I’m sure.” Harry replied sarcastically. “How…” he moved his hand in an attempt to understand.

            “Well, we thought since you were here all alone, trying to find out more information on the Chamber, that we could swing by and keep you company!” Hermione explained cheerfully. “Dobby brought us here, it’s just for the night. We just…”

            “We didn’t want you spending Christmas alone.” Neville continued shyly, and Harry wanted to cry from that, because this was the nicest thing anyone had ever did for him.

            “It was supposed to be a surprise.” Draco admitted with a heavy sigh. “We asked Artpy and she said you were gone out for a bit, had been for the last hour, so we thought that in the meantime we could set the place up a bit and, you know…” he trailed off lamely.

            For a second, Harry briefly contemplated in the back of his mind what Draco revealed, that he had been gone for quite a while. A quick glance at the clock on the _True Scribble_ told him that it had been at least a couple of hours since he entered the diary. Had it been truly that long? The memory only lasted a few minutes, but maybe time worked differently inside the memories of Tom Riddle, or perhaps the diary was at fault. Harry would’ve given it more thought, if not for the fact that Hermione pulled him out of his thoughts.

            “You can say heartfelt things to your best friend in front of your other best friends, Draco.” Hermione elbowed Draco pointedly, and Harry’s stomach lurched ridiculously at the display of camaraderie and affection between all of them. “You care, he knows it, you know it, we know it, stop with the recalcitrant attitude, there’s literally no one here to make fun of you!”

            “Fine!” Draco replied impetuously. “And to make you happy, because you’re our friend and we love you. Satisfied, your Highness?” he drawled out in Hermione’s direction, while Harry openly let tears fall from his eyes.

            “Very, my loyal peasant.” Hermione replied in the same vein.

            “Hey, what’s with the waterworks?” Hannah asked with a smile, but there was no malice in her voice as she walked towards Harry and held him in a sideways hug.

            “I’m sorry, but this is…” Harry sniffed, laughing at himself for being so emotional. “The best Christmas gift I could ever ask for, honestly.” he wiped his cheeks and eyes.

            “So I can take back my present to the store, then?” Neville joked.

            “Not unless you want coals in _all_ of your socks and _your_ present returned as well.” Harry warned.

            “Cheap shot.” Neville stuck out his tongue.

            “But you haven’t seen the best part yet!” Hermione cooed. “Artpy, lights!” she intoned.

           

            The lamps went out, but the numerous Christmas lights dangling all over the place turned on, a vast array of colour, dimmed just enough that the whole setup didn’t blind them, just made the room less dark, in the same intensity that the fire in the fireplace crackled happily, and the ones on the tree did the same.

            It was more than magic, it was simply _wonderful_ how thought-out it all was, how they managed to change the entire room and give it the atmosphere of pure Christmas joy. The image was a bit rattled when Harry felt something cold on his neck and shivered, discovering that it was Draco making it snow inside, using a bowl of water with his powers.

            “Too much?” the boy scrunched his face.

            “Let’s leave the snowing for the outside, this is more than great as it is.” Harry agreed as they all settled in a bunch of pillows and blankets that the Room provided. “Anybody want to watch anything?” he asked as they all piled on each other.

            “A Nightmare before Christmas?” Hermione joked, and even though it was more a Halloween movie, they agreed. Harry didn’t note the irony of the fact that he just _had_ a nightmarish experience right before Christmas.

 

            He didn’t tell them anything about the diary or about the fact that it was basically _evil_ and it contained a part of Voldemort’s younger self, his memories and his treacherous acts. No, he wanted to enjoy this night with his friends, as they all went to great lengths to make it special, just for him, so that he wouldn’t be alone on Christmas.

            So for now, he let go of his troubles and enjoyed watching Jack Skellington misappropriate Christmas culture and laugh and be happy on a very special day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. Harry withholding things from his friends as they do nice things for him. Ouch, how do you think they will react?
> 
> This chapter is a bit shorter than the last few, but it's mostly dealing with R's mindblowing info dump, and the exploration of the diary and more of Harry's character when he's alone. He's a bit more troubled than he lets on, and it's something that will come up later.
> 
> As you can see, I have finally set a total number for the chapters of this fic, 91 to be precise. There will be 13 chapters per book, and we're nearing the end of the second one. But do not worry, even if this one is shorter and the number of chapters don't coincide with the original material, this doesn't mean that what's coming up will be shortened just to fit in, ooooh no. I have a lot to write about in this fic, and final chapters, or the culminating ones (could be chapters 11 or 12 in the future, leaving 13 for resolving things) are going to be longer than usual, like it was with The Trapdoor chapter.
> 
> Until next time, when we get a Valentine Card. But from whom???


	22. The Valentine Card

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry continues to hide his discovery, but then an incident shows him that actions has consequences.

            Time seemed to go in a weird way after Christmas and New Year’s, when the gang reunited for a second time that holiday. It flowed faster and slower at the same time, like a car at a really long light. Harry either spent his time alone in the castle searching for the Chamber without any luck, training on his own with Artpy or investigating further into Riddle’s diary.

            The latter is what took most of his time, however. He had to be careful about handling such a dangerous object. He never took it out of his sight and never left it somewhere he couldn’t immediately reach it. His behaviour attracted Artpy’s attention, who threatened him with psychological check-ups and other nonsense like that, but he insisted that he was fine, just cautious with it. It wouldn’t do to just lose it somewhere, the memory of Voldemort himself, the way to open the Chamber of Secrets.

            So instead he took the time to write inside. It wasn’t easy, because most of the time he spent formulating questions on his laptop, because he couldn’t just very well come up and say ‘Hey, you know that Chamber of Secrets with that deadly basilisk? Can you point me exactly where it was again? I seem to have forgotten.’ to the diary, Riddle would know immediately what he was up to and say nothing. Or, worse, the diary would _react_ and do something that Harry could in no way be prepared for.

            But he still had a part of Voldemort himself. Maybe not much of it, the man he knew was several times older than the boy in the book, if he still counted birthdays after being, you know, sort of dead, but diary Riddle was him in his formative years. He displayed his tenacity for lying and scheming even then, and any sort of background, anything at all could help Harry in the long run. Or so he lied to himself.

            In truth, he had this morbid fascination with Riddle. He knew, with all his being, that Riddle was still _Voldemort_ for god’s sake, but he somehow viewed them a bit separate from each other, an entire life distancing them from the Prefect to the Dark Lord. He wanted to know this man, this future murderer, to understand him, to see why in the world he would eventually do all the things he did. He hated him, sure, if that was even enough to describe the feeling between them. Harry sometimes thought it wasn’t, like _hate_ was too _kind_ for what he felt for Voldemort. Abhorring was closer, but it didn’t translate the level of desire to utterly destroy the man that he had.

            Still, he wanted to know. Not to redeem him, not to garner kinship for him, but to understand, on some objective level, what drove Voldemort, made him tick with his hate-clock as a heart. Harry had to admit, even though he never would to another soul, not even under the threat of death, that Riddle was easy on the eyes back in the day. He could see how the young man might charm others into doing his bidding, manipulating them with his big, doey eyes into subtly subverting to his wishes. It was an unfortunate truth, but attractive people got by easier, much to Harry’s dismay, who had to work for every ounce of credit and trust he had with literal sweat and blood. Not when it came to Dumbledore, though. Dumbledore was one of the few people in this world who didn’t judge you by your outwards appearance. He hired _Snape_ , of all people, a man who still thought his shoulder-length hair was in vogue, even at the age of 33 (since 9th of January). Honestly now.

            He knew that Riddle was an orphan. He gathered that much, since he stopped the attacks immediately after the threat that the school would close. And about that, really, were people other than Dumbledore just _idiots_? The Headmaster wasn’t the only one there to see their discussion, and barring eye-witnesses, Riddle just _happened_ to come up with a solution out of nowhere? What, did no one but the aging wizard think he pulled out the identity of the attacker out of his _arse_ , next to the place where he kept the sun when it was night? Then again, Harry was judging from his perspective, an admittedly _enlightened_ perspective, and people always said he was a bit like Dumbledore anyways, so to him it was obvious the truth wasn’t what Riddle wanted it to be, but other people had no problem blaming the half-giant and just go about their days. They just prosecuted the wrong person without even looking for more evidence because it fit in their opinion, but instead, the attractive young white male that was the actual killer got a medal. Utter bollocks, in Harry’s opinion.

            Beyond that, he knew next to nothing. It was worse than that time he had to doge Draco’s questions, for every painstakingly thought question he got a vague answer and a question in return. And Harry didn’t want Voldemort to interrogate _him_ , that was his job, so he had to vague answer himself, and it turned into a bit of a cat and mouse situation, where the roles reversed with every inky line. It was like the diary knew he was fishing for information, so the diary tried to fish right back, but Harry knew the diary knew, and the diary knew that Harry knew that the diary knew and it turned into a loop of Pinocchio saying his nose will grow, which in real life translated as an impasse. Harry asked something, got some non-response, the diary did the same, and in the end they both got the same kind of reply.

            To sum it up, Harry knew Riddle's birthday was December 31st 1941, that he grew up in an orphanage in London, got good grades and was quite adept at Transfiguration. In return, the diary knew that Harry was born on July 31st 2000, grew up with his aunt and uncle in a village in Northern England (one that Harry had to google - it wasn't like he was about to tell the Dark Lord where he lived) and was good on a broom. Short of that, there was nothing else to be gathered.

            From the dozens of articles, papers and books he perused, and from the one detailed account of a girl that grew up in the same orphanage as Riddle, Harry gathered that orphan life was tough as hell, especially during World War 2. Voldemort may have been too young to remember the bombs dropping on London during that time, but the after effects were still resounding during his youth, and kids were mean, especially kids that didn’t have love and support and were all alone in a strange and cold world, no wonder Voldemort turned towards killing Muggles for shits and giggles. Harry considered himself lucky, he was also an orphan, but he had a family, a loving one, and it spoke volumes in his day-to-day life and it reflected in his interactions with others. Some human part of him, after perusing so much information, felt the slightest bit of _sorry_ for the man. But then he remembered that Riddle, an orphan himself, chose to make other orphans by killing so many, Harry’s parents included, so he shot that sympathy for the devil crap down. The system failed Tom Riddle, that was clear and inexcusable, but what was also unforgivable was all the crap he pulled after he entered a world of magic and acceptance, received a top education, was proven to be a great wizard, had everyone and their extended family absolutely adore him. There was no justification for starting his own neo-Nazi movement to eradicate Muggleborns from wizarding society. Dumbledore’s words of being who you choose to be, not who you are born as rang in Harry’s mind clear as a bell, and Harry could’ve chosen to be angry and have a cold relationship with his relatives, could’ve chosen to wrap himself around the blanket of unfairness and hate the world for what it did to him, could’ve done all sorts of things with his powers to project the hurt that he felt every day since he found out his parents were dead. But he didn’t, instead he chose to be better. Voldemort didn’t.

           

            And so, the time for winter break had come and gone with its strange movement of the clock, obliterating the bubble of being suspended in time. The Hogwarts Express was due to arrive on the 12th of January. For some reason, the Board of Governors shifted the dates in which students were to arrive to school, changing it on a Saturday, instead of a Sunday, perhaps to give them time to readjust to the castle. Whatever the case, it meant that his friends would be coming back a day earlier, so Harry had to be careful about the diary, keeping it in his bag in a hidden zipper.

            “You _still_ haven’t taken down the lights?” Hannah remarked as she and the other three entered the Room that afternoon.

            “Hello to you too, I’m fine how about you.” Harry grumbled, reading on his phablet while spread out on the sofa in the living room.

            “Potter, we talk daily, we _live_ together, us being separated physically for twelve days means nothing when compared to the hundreds we spend in each other’s company.” Draco drawled out as he took off his coat.

            “It’s like we went out for the last five minutes.” Hannah rolled her eyes.

            “I think Harry noted the lack of manners from you too.” Neville tutted. “Hello, Harry!” he added with a smile, as did Hermione.

            “Hello to you too, Neville, Hermione!” Harry added more brightly. “See, this is why they got better presents than you two.” he joked.

            “Hang on, you got me a 24-karat golden necklace that doubles as a wizarding wireless charger, what did _they_ get?” Hannah interjected.

            “I didn’t get it, I _made_ it!” Harry revealed.

            “Nice, do you perchance take classes in arts and crafts? Because it doesn’t look that bad.” Draco remarked, peering closer to the accessory hanging on the girl’s sweater, as Neville and Hermione took of their coats and sat down next to Harry, who made room for them.

            “Stop staring at my breasts, Malfoy!” Hannah covered her chest with her hands and moved away.

            “You have breasts?” Draco drawled out, unimpressed.

            “ _No_ , the two blobs in front of me are _obviously_ small airbags, in case I ever trip and land on my face, and they actually double as floatation devices that inflate when near water so that I don’t drown.” Hannah spoke in the same tone. “Yes, they’re breasts, you idiot!” she pushed him lightly.

            “I don’t see anything. Do you?” he asked the group, but didn’t wait for a response as he hanged his coat and carried his bag to his room. Which, of course, left a sputtering Hannah behind and a very amused trio on the sofa.

            “Oh, so now my tits aren’t big enough for you?” Hannah shouted after the retreating form of Draco.

            “Does she hear herself?” Neville asked to the side.

            “Shush, I’m trying to watch.” Harry swatted him.

            “I do not care for your forming bosom, Abbott, nor should my opinion about them or any man’s interest you in the slightest!” Draco shouted tiredly at her while climbing the stairs to his room.

            “Damn right I don’t!” Hannah shouted back as she took off her boots.

            “Have you seen my Avenger shirt?” Draco’s voice was heard beyond the open door of his room.

            “The one with Captain America’s shield or Thor’s hammer?” Hannah replied in a loud voice.

            “Thor!”

            “Dresser on the left!” Hannah said as she finally got her shoes unlaced and walked towards the sofa. “Your _other_ left!” Hannah groaned and added without so much as a look. “Prick.” she said in a normal voice.

            “I heard that!” Draco shouted, coming back in his casual wear, closing the door behind him and jumping the railing.

            “Do you two ever stop with the arguing?” Hermione looked with an amused expression.

            “What arguing?” Draco and Hannah asked at the same time, as the sofa extended itself to accommodate them all at the same time.

            “Just don’t, Hermione.” Harry shook his head.

            “What are they talking about?” Hannah asked Draco.

            “I don’t know, they’re nutters.” the boy shrugged and turned on the board. “So back to business, are we any closer to finding the Chamber of Secrets or do we have to get sonar equipment here?”

            “Undoubtedly closer, but the answer is still far away.” Harry sighed. “And we tried that sonar last year when we were chasing after secret passageways in the castle. Remember? It never went through the walls.”

            “Vibration frequency?” Hermione supplied.

            “Tried that.” Harry replied.

            “Thermal imaging?” Hannah asked.

            “Tried that.”

            “Cold imaging?” Neville gave it a go.

            “Next thing after thermal, didn’t work.” Harry said in monotone.

            “Electric signature? Concentration of omega rays? UV intensity? Infrared? Reptilian detection?” Draco looked exasperated with each guess.

            “Yes, yes, yes, yes and that’s not even a thing.” Harry took a second to reply.

            “Blast, we’re getting nowhere fast.” Draco sighed, sitting back.

            “I think we’ve been in nowhere territory for quite a while now, Draco.” Hermione winced.

            “Think we can just throw a Dungbomb down the pipes and smoke the basilisk out?” Hannah rubbed her eyes.

            “Great idea, except for the part in which the whole plumbing would smell like shit.” Harry let his head fall back on the backrest.

            “ _Smoke_ the basilisk out, really?” Neville snorted after a brief moment of silence, which inevitably sent everyone into fits of giggles at the thought.

            “I’m literally out of ideas at this point.” Hannah snickered.

            “How about we hang around the toilet with a big ‘Don’t’ sign and if we see reptilian movement we could hit the basilisk with the aforementioned sign, so that the message _really_ sinks in?” Hermione joked. “Or prop me up with some cartoon trap with a cardboard and just let nature take its course?” she descended into fits of laughter.

            “Bugs Bunny would know what to do.” Harry agreed solemnly, before cackling like a maniac.

            “You’re acting stupid.” Draco rolled his eyes. “This is serious trouble we’re in, and you’re making jokes!” he chided them, snuffing out the laughter. “We call Elmer Fudd, the greatest hunter of all.” he continued with a smile.

            “I’m hunting bwasilisks!” Harry imitated the bald hunter.

            “How can you perfectly use Elmer’s voice, but your Yoda is still far behind?” Hermione asked through tears.

            “Idea about what you mean I have not.” Harry responded in his fail of a Yoda voice.

            “See what I mean?” Hermione asked the rest of the group.

            “Work on your Yoda impersonating, you must.” Neville added, _perfectly_ using the Jedi’s voice.

            Harry gasped loudly.

            “You come in _my_ house, you disrespect _my_ acting skills…!” he intoned dramatically, to the entertainment of the others.

            “In my house, you come…” Neville taunted him.

            “Shut up!” Harry had enough and put a pillow on the other boy’s face.

 

            Days turned into weeks, and as the cold just got worse by the day, and classes started up again, their searching for the Chamber took a backseat from it all. The teachers were determined to make everything seem normal, and thus were even more trying in their classes, opting to distract everyone from the horror in the castle that awaited them if they weren’t careful. Even if the attacks haven’t resumed, mainly because Harry knew he had the weapon with him at all times, they weren’t letting up. Snape, in particular, was even more gruelling than usual.

            It was during one of their Double Potions on Tuesdays that Harry decided to make a little game of it and made up a Bingo board of phrases and words the professor liked to use in his class. He and Neville finished up their potion and waited patiently for the chance to use it, eyes, glued to the monitor of Harry’s laptop.

            “3… 2… 1… Weasley.” Harry whispered.

            “Weasley!” came the teacher’s voice from the other side of the classroom.

            “That’s one.” Neville agreed with great mirth.

            “What _manner_ of poisonous concoction have you managed to create here?”

            “Poisonous… Concoction…” Harry noted the respective squares.

            “Did you even _read_ the instructions I have _perfectly_ set out for you?” Snape continued his torment, but Harry had now four squares checked, albeit in opposite corners, but if they were lucky… “MacDougal, were you even trying to correct him? Or did you _help_ create this atrocity?”

            “Blaming partner as well… Atrocity…” Harry continued to click.

            “What are you doing?” Draco had to ask them in a whisper.

            “Shhh!” the both of them shushed him, turning their attention back to Snape, who was now using a ladle to inspect Weasley’s and MacDougal’s potion, who dissolved the object immediately, and Snape drew a heavy sigh.

            “Solution of Acidic Failure, my absolute favourite. Next time, remember to stir in the right direction and _peel_ your Astradius berries, otherwise you would get _quite_ the stomach burn, you absolute _dunderheads_!” the teacher continued, before walking over to his board.

            “Acidic… Dunderheads… Oh, this is too good!” Harry breathed, as one single square separated them from a double Bingo.

            “Come on… Do it, dammit!” Neville jumped in his seat.

            “Five points from both of you!” Snape scrawled something the homework on the board.

            “Yes!” the two boys exclaimed a bit loudly, but luckily the bell saved them from Snape’s wrath.

            “I want 300 words essays from all of you about the proprieties of Astradius Berries by my desk next time!” Snape added in lieu of a dismissal, and everyone noted it down, hurrying to get out. “Potter! A word!”

            “Now you’ve done it.” Hermione gave the boy a look, who prepared his best innocent face for what would likely be his judge, jury and executioner.

            Everyone left for lunch, and Harry organised his things and waited patiently for Snape to finish puckering about.

            “Any time, Sev.” Harry said after a minute of absolute silence.

            “Have somewhere you ought to be?” Snape finally regarded him, raising an eyebrow as he rested on the edge of the desk.

            “Not really, just that I’m wondering what this is about.” Harry shrugged, crossing his arms.

            “I was just wondering if you are alright to perform in Saturday’s Quidditch match against Ravenclaw.” Snape took in a few breaths before replying.

            “Yeah… Why wouldn’t I?” Harry made a face.

            “Because I know you’ve been going around the school, trying to find the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets in your spare time.”

            “And?”

            “I don’t want you distracted or tired, so I’m asking you now if you feel that you’re capable of doing it.”

            “I’m perfectly fine, Severus, no need to worry, though I appreciate it.” Harry felt touched.

            “Very well. I trust your judgment. Anything I can do to help with your search?” Snape changed subjects.

            “Unless you can provide the original blueprints of the castle’s plumbing system, I’m afraid we’re no close to finding it.” Harry blew and elongated breath.

            “Even if I did, I am guessing the plans don’t include a basilisk’s nest in them.” Snape argued.

            “You’re probably right.” Harry clicked his tongue. “Then just make sure you keep the students safe, like always. And stop hating on Ronald Weasley so much!” Harry remembered to add. “You’re giving him nightmares!”

            “Well, if he could bother to _read_ instructions, rather than doodle aimlessly on his notebook when I explain things…” Snape trailed off. “While we’re on the subject of classroom behaviour, could you _not_ gamble in my class?” he drawled out. “I don’t want to explain to the Headmaster that we’re starting an underage casino in his school.”

            “It wasn’t for money, Severus, and it was made out of phrases you _say_ during your finest teaching moments.” Harry rolled his eyes and moved towards the exit.

            “I’m not so easily predictable, Potter!” Snape blurted out at his retreating back.

            “I have a double Bingo that says otherwise!” Harry trilled right back. “Bye, Sev!” he left the room without giving the man the option to say something back. He was going to pay for it; not tomorrow, maybe not this school year, even, but there wasn’t any chance he would get away with this scot free. Harry didn’t care, it was totally worth it.

 

Training in the winter for a Quidditch match was less than ideal, in Harry's humble opinion. Marcus was shouting at them left and right to stick to his diagrams and plans, and the others were yelling back curses at the weather, at their frozen brooms and at Marcus for insisting on a training session during a windy day. Not even the warming system of the pitch was enough for them, hands and faces icy from speeding through the February air.

Harry, thankfully, was spared being forced to follow various complicated schemes their Captain prepared beforehand, because A: Seekers weren't really subject to have a certain plan that they could follow, thanks to the unpredictable behaviour of the Golden Snitch; and B: Marcus long ago gave up on trying to instruct Harry on how to fly and do his job.

It was sort of bittersweet, the fact that Marcus trusted in him enough to leave Harry to do his own thing during matches, but it also meant that Harry would have to just watch others being part of the team, while he waited on the side-lines. With that in mind, Harry zoomed around on his Firebolt, searching for the sneaky Snitch, sometimes catching it in minutes, other times seemingly disappearing into thin air, until it finally showed itself in places Harry was sure he had inspected before. Now, the ball was nowhere near sentience, it only had a complicated charm on it that made it so that its sole directive was to hide and never be caught, but it didn't stop Harry from thinking it was _deliberately_ mocking him most of the times.

“Alright, you lot!” Marcus whistled after two gruelling hours out in the cold. “Hit the showers and get a good rest, tomorrow we fight against Ravenclaw and I want you at your best!”

“Chill out, Flint!” Higgins blew a raspberry. “We all know Potter’s going to win this one, like he _always_ does. The only question is what dastardly move is he going to perform this time.” he winked at the boy, who was thankful that he had the weather to blame for his flushed cheeks.

“Thank you for your input, but we can’t let the _whole_ game rest on Harry, we have our parts to play as well.” Flint rolled his eyes. “Now, _out_!” he motioned with his hand, rounding them up.

“You’re _sure_ you meant that?” Harry chuckled, landing near Flint at the same time the older boy did.

“I know we rely on you more than we care to admit, because you’re the best flyer I’ve ever seen and you’re always quick on your feet – so far you haven’t disappointed.” Marcus held him under his arm and smiled at his teammate.

“Sometimes I wonder if it’s a bit unfair that the other teams that I am the Slytherin seeker.” Harry mused out loud.

“Hey, it’s not our fault we got such an excellent flyer and no one can blame us for using him.” Marcus shrugged nonchalantly.

“True.” Harry laughed, but then he saw a figure approaching them, running like her life depended on her. “You go on ahead.” he said to Marcus, as the boy just looked intrigued then went into the locker rooms.

 

Hannah was fast approaching him, gasping for dear life as she reached him.

“Is there a monster behind you? I didn’t think you ran if not for your life or the last piece of chocolate.” Harry guffawed.

“They… Arrived…” Hannah managed with a smile. “It’s… Crud, give me a bloody second!” she tried to breathe.

“Are you going to make sense sometime this century?” Harry looked amused.

“The… armour… it’s here.” Hannah finally caught her breath.

“Well, it was about time!” Harry exclaimed. “Give me a minute to change and I’ll take you up at the castle, alright?” he motioned towards himself, but Hannah snatched the broom from his fingers. “Oi!”

“I am _not_ walking back to the seventh floor. I’ll see you then.” Hannah huffed angrily and mounted the broom, ready for take-off.

“Um, Han? I have to warn you, it’s a bit…” Harry tried to warn her, but she already took off the ground. His Firebolt wasn’t one of the fastest brooms for nothing.

“Aaah!” Hannah yelped as the broom launched them into the air.

“…Faster than you can handle.” Harry said to the air. “Of course, why listen to me, it’s not like I know my own broomstick.” he continued to complain as he walked towards the lockers.

 

Fifteen minutes later, after a shower and a change of clothes, Harry landed in the Room casually and walked towards the gym, where he knew the others would be. They were already huddled at Artpy’s desk, talking amongst themselves.

“Hedwig not letting you open any of my packages, I take it?” Harry remarked as he approached and saw his owl sitting on a box, refusing to let go of it.

“Oh, thank god you’re here! She won’t let us _near_ it.” Hemione said. “I don’t get it, she’s always nice to us, except with this.”

“That’s because she takes her job very seriously, like she should.” Harry pointed out, making room for himself. “Thank you, dear.” he caressed the side of her head, and she cooed approvingly, before flying off. “Now, let’s see what Herbert’s friends have managed to make for us.”

Inside the magically enlarged box were five outfits made for combat, complete with footwear as well. Dragon leather from an old dragon that passed away from old age, the most expensive material for wear known to wizardkind, as it got more durable as the dragon aged, and if it was one that died naturally, it was even more so. The bodice was like a shirt with short sleeves, composed of three layers: the outer layer was the leather, matte black and horizontal ridges to give it a more appealing factor, the middle layer was crushed dragon bone that solidified onto the leather and the inner layer was wool that felt like foam. The pants followed the same line, only without the ridges, looking like a simple pair of black trousers, as did the pair of mid-shin boots. There was also a pair of half-sleeves that could be attached to the bodice, that covered the outer part of the arm, from the middle of the bicep to the knuckles, to protect what was most vulnerable while not restricting movement or magical flow.

“This is so wicked cool!” Draco said in amazement, inspecting his own armour, but his face dropped into an exasperated one as he turned the bodice around. “And you’ve stylised these as well. With a minimalist emblem this time. Marvellous.” he drawled out.

“Shut your gob, Draco, they are awesome!” Hannah wasted no time in putting it on. “Damn, I look good!” she inspected herself in the mirror. “It’s so light, it’s barely feels like there’s anything on me except my underwear.” she remarked.

“ _The material has been spelled to be lighter than usual for flexibility, and while it’s a trying feat to place magic on a dragon’s skin, once implemented it’s near impossible for it to dissolve._ ” Artpy said.

“I take it that’s the reason it arrived so late.” Neville mused.

“Enchanting dragons is never easy, even with all the new technology we have.” Hermione agreed with him.

“Draco, yours has small pouches of water in the sleeves, in case there isn’t any available.” Harry told him. “Nev, before you complain, you can actually generate more flames than Draco can water, so there’s no flamethrower in yours.”

“I’d like to think that the dragon I’m wearing would’ve been happy with that one, but okay.” Neville joked.

 

The Quidditch match was strangely one-sidedly brutal, in the sense that the Ravenclaws were putting up quite a fight, as if they were trying to score more points to make up for when Harry inevitably found the Snitch before Cho. The latter, in turn, was standing still for the entirety of the match, scanning the pitch with a keen eye, while her teammates tried to annihilate the Slytherins.

Marcus was trying to keep it cool, but his nervousness got the better of him and it showed, when things got slightly chaotic and nobody understood where the Quaffle was for a good minute. Jordan had a hard time keeping track of it all, often remaining behind a few actions. It was the most tense match in history – the Ravenclaws weren’t exactly known for their ferociousness, and they had no problem with Slytherin in general, but it felt slightly personal, the way they kept sending Bludgers to Harry every few minutes, just to keep him occupied.

The boy was changing his position with every angry ball sent his way, inadvertently serving him as a reminder to move every once in a while. The grey skies helped with his search, although not by much. He spotted Remus, who was busy trying to maintain the peace, but couldn’t follow every player at the same time, so of course the rest delved into slightly unsportmanship behaviour, not outright illegal but nearly there.

Then, Harry saw the Golden Snitch, right below him, near the grass on the pitch. It was at that moment that a Bludger was sent his way, for the dozenth time, but he decided it was time to end things. He tumbled forward, using his arms to help, then started freefalling onto the pitch, as the crowd shouted in disbelief and Jordan nearly died of panic.

At the last moment, several seconds before he was upon the unsuspecting Snitch, Harry called his broom towards him, left hand stretched next to him, while his right hand was grasping for the Snitch. Then, the second he felt the metal in his fingers, his Firebolt came swooping down into his hand, raising him up to a cheering crowd.

His victory was short lived, as the whistle blew, but a second Bludger hit him right in the face.

Harry’s world became filled with pain and a deafening ring that wouldn’t stop, he was falling and couldn’t see what was going on, his lungs pushing out the air in his body forcefully as he landed on his back, then choking on something warm and metal like.

The magic inside of him started burning, trying to repair this, giving him back his vision and sense of self. He was on the ground, dozens of spectators crying out in shock, teammates and opponents trying to see if he was alright, Remus going absolutely crazy, but there was one figure approaching him. One of the Ravenclaw beaters, with a fuming look on his face, bat still in his hand.

“You piece of shit, you think you’re so talented, showing off…” the boy, a sixth year and a large, muscled fellow started spewing.

“Archibald, that is enough!” Remus shouted from somewhere and tried to intervene, but it was too late, as the older boy caught up to Harry and tried to actually _clobber_ him with the bat.

Harry caught the bat mid-hit with his palm, and used his power to hold the boy in place. Where there was anger there was now pure terror, as the twelve-year old stood up, faced his would be attacker and _crushed_ the bat in two, to the gasps of the spectators. Then, he grabbed the boy by the shirt and raised him in the air, a few centimetres above the ground.

“Harry, _stop_!” Neville shouted, hurrying to get to them, with Hannah, Hermione and Draco in tow. “He’s not worth it.”

Harry said nothing, only looked in the terrified eyes of Archibald, before throwing him on the ground, taking his broom and leaving without a word to his classmates, his friends or teachers, against the sounds of spectators shouting.

 

The nose bleeding stopped almost immediately after he got up, likely a side-effect of his own magic acting up in self-defence. It felt broken for a minute, but then regained its natural position and the pain subsided entirely. It wasn’t _new_ , exactly, for him to shrug off physical hurt in a matter of minutes, looking back that had always been the case with some injuries, often fuelled by adrenaline and fury.

 It had been almost two hours after the game, and his phone was acting so crazy afterwards that he had to turn it off; since his assault on the pitch happened there hadn’t been a second of silence from it, Hooting, Handprint, Quickpic, Tumblr and magical YouTube had been signalling him that he was talked about constantly. Artpy had been ordered to stifle her gob about it.

He knew his friends were in the living room, waiting for him, had been since the ending of the game, but he just slammed the door in their faces and put up a constant shield around it. For the first time in a long while, Harry didn’t want to speak to them, didn’t want to interact with anybody else for that matter.

Never before had he been so _humiliated_ in public before, especially not for something as trivial as a Quidditch match. The fact of the matter was that he was an excellent player, even without the tricks he pulled. And he played fair, never once using his powers to win the game, just the confidence he had from them to jump of a broom and call it back to him. If any other player could muster the confidence to do it, they could do the same, but apparently some people were sore losers and took to physical force.

Thomas Archibald, a previously unremarkable fellow, thought it best to let out his frustrations upon a twelve-year old, a child two heads shorter than him and seemingly defenceless. What kind of monster did something like that? Then, he remembered another monster in his purview, a memory inside an old book, so he took to write Riddle some more, trying to put his mind out of what happened. He sat at his desk and stared at the pages, wondering what in the world he was going to ask the Dark Lord today.

There was something bugging him in all this time: Tom Riddle was a handsome young man, smart, ambitious and talented. He easily caught the attention of almost every witch or wizard he came in contact with, a charismatic individual such as himself. Was it possible that one such man was at one point _with_ someone?

“Did you ever experience romantic feelings for anybody?” he wrote down without hesitation.

“ _Did you_?” came the immediate response.

Harry blew out a sigh of frustration. Of course such information wouldn’t come without a cost, it was silly to even think –

“ _Are you experiencing something of the like?_ ” Riddle wrote back.

Pause. _Another_ question to complete the first one? That was new. It seemed like the Dark Lord’s patience has run thin and was now trying his best to coax it out of Harry. Could this go somewhere? Would it be possible to establish some form of connection that could give him what he wanted? He was a book, a powerful, strange book still, but what could it do even with the truth?

“My friend, Neville.” Harry continued to write. “I came to the realisation earlier and I wanted to know if you had ever felt like this for someone.”

“ _No, I haven’t. Love is only betrayal and weakness, I haven’t concerned myself with such things. You shouldn’t either._ ” Voldemort wrote back.

There it was, in black and white. He never loved anything in his life, never felt that tightness in the chest for someone else. And that _line_ about weakness and such, that was beyond stupid of him. Harry threw the book back in his bag, cursing all the way for failing once again. Tom Riddle would never answer to him, not like that and not by himself. It was abundantly clear to the boy that he had exhausted any means of figuring things out.

Dumbledore would have to help him with this matter.

 

“Hey.” Draco said tentatively, late at night after Harry finally emerged from his room. “You alright?”

They all turned around from the sofa to watch him with concern in their eyes, wrapped in blankets and dressed in pyjamas, watching something on the screen.

“No.” Harry croaked, sitting down in the middle, putting on his own blanket, resting on Hermione’s side and pushing his feet against Draco. “I feel horrible.”

“Why, though?” Neville asked earnestly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No, I know that. But what that Ravenclaw did made me feel humiliated. In front of everybody.” Harry revealed.

“I think…” Hannah started, pushing a glass of water towards Harry. “I think you aren’t used to being taken by surprise like that from someone normal and it shattered your sense of safety. Correct?”

“Yes.” the boy realised. “I think you’re spot on.”

“Well, that was incredibly mature of you to admit.” Hermione kissed the top of his head. “You’re powerful, but not all-powerful, so when you’re reminded that you’re capable of being hurt by someone so spontaneously it scared you, but that’s normal sweetie.”

“I know, but… I should’ve been more careful.” Harry lamented.

“No.” Draco interjected. “It’s not your absolute job to be on edge the whole fucking time that some _moron_ could attack you, barring an actual dangerous situation, you’re completely entitled to feel safe 24/7. That wanker was at fault. You already won, spectacularly so, and he was angry about it. I’m surprised you didn’t pommel him into the ground. I would.”

“And then I would be out of Hogwarts, like I imagine he is right about now.” Harry scoffed.

“Not yet from what I hear, but considering the amount of pressure from the outside…” Neville said.

“Everyone saw what he did.” Hannah nodded. “There were hundreds of cameras on you and him at the same time, there is no way to interpret it. Although you really should go through your feeds, it will make you feel better.”

“My phone nearly fried itself trying to process it all.” Harry gestured vaguely. “I turned it off.”

“Let me read some of my favourites.” Hermione dressed her voice. “And everything I say is strictly quoting.” she added as she unlocked her phone and scrolled through Hooting. “Jesus Christ, was that intense af – how can someone do something like this? I’m sorry, did we just saw Potter Hulk out and break a Beater’s bat barehanded?” she intoned dramatically, making everyone snicker. “Who the hell goes up to the Boy-Who-Lived and expects to win – shocked emoji, blushing emoji, crying emoji. Uh, the last guy who did this wound up dead #PrayForArchibalsSoul #NotReallyTho.” at this point everyone was wheezing. “Sweetie, you messed with the wrong fandom. Omg, wtf, what the hell – continuous looping gif of Harry throwing Archibald on the ground after breaking the bat. Shocking, actual defeater of the Dark Lord can stand on his own two feet – gif of Meryl Streep from _The Devil Wears Prada_ with the words ‘Groundbreaking’ written on the bottom. Yaaassss, girl, get him!”

“I can’t, I c-can’t…” Hannah waved her hand in her face, trying to get some air in, as tears of laughter ran down the face, and everyone else wasn’t far behind her, as they held their sides. Hermione had a hard time keeping it together enough to continue her dramatic re-enactment of hoots around the world over.

“Who does this boy think he is, coming up to my man Harry like that – messy ass. Me right now: screenshot of a news story of a wig in the air that says ‘wig flew to Asia’ – has over twelve thousand re-hoots.” Hermione snorted. “And last, but not least… DAMN, SON!”

Everyone collectively lost it entirely, as they rolled around, howling like hyenas in pain. At one point, Draco started laughing a bit like Woody the Woodpecker and it delved into something else.

“What is that _sound_?” Neville cackled.

“I don’t know!” Draco cried. “I can’t stop!” he continued his bird-like laugh.

“I knew you laughed weirdly, but DAMN, SON!” Harry wheezed, continuing the frenzy for another few minutes.

 

It was later that night, when Harry contemplated his earlier decision to talk with Dumbledore about the diary, toying with the object in his hand while in bed. Now that he was calmer, something in him decidedly didn't want to hand it over, because it felt like he was handing over a part of himself, an integral and unmovable part – his past, his future... All of them contained in the memories of a monster, and would Dumbledore share the entirety of their contents with Harry? The Headmaster had always been rather forward with the boy, but that didn't mean that it would continue, particularly in this matter, where it concerned the most dangerous individual of all time. Who was Harry in all of this, apart from a lucky individual who managed to survive such a man. No, no matter how forthcoming Dumbledore was, Harry was still a child in his eyes, there were some things that even the old man could not say in front of the boy, even if it was _vital_ information that he desperately needed.

So perhaps telling Dumbledore so soon might've not been such a good idea, Harry concluded.

His phone buzzed, and he didn't have to guess who it was, at this hour and so sudden.

 

_Careful, Harry. This won't end well. I know you better than you'd think._

_\- R_

The entire school was abuzz over the course of the following week, as hundreds of students stared at Harry and his friends more than usual, casting strange and scared looks, as well as a few winks from the select few who thought it was awesome what happened on the pitch. Draco looked completely infuriated at this, as was Hermione, because to them it was insulting to think anything but _horrible_ when concerning the incident. Meanwhile, Hannah and Neville thought it was bad, yes, but Harry handled it immediately and it wasn't that big of a deal, just an idiot that tried his hand too much and did something stupid. Their leader, however, just wanted it all to go away so they could focus on finding the helper, the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, the identity of R, a way to kill a basilisk and stop Lucius somehow all at once (" _Priorities, people! Don't we have_ enough _to deal with right now?!)_

It was Thursday after the match and a tiresome and cold week, when the most embarrassing moment of Harry's life so far happened, one that wouldn't leave his head for years to come. Some _cretin,_ some manner of bloody insect that posed with the intelligence of a human, some foul beast from the depths of hell itself had decided it was high time that a _certain_ holiday would be celebrated within the sacred halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Gilderoy Lockhart, pompous arse extraordinaire, spotlight diva and always moving along his schemes to further publicise himself like a shark moves in the water, lest he _actually_ die, took it upon himself to apparently decorate the entire castle with red hearts of various sizes that floated around, dancing in groups or flew from room to room, garlands and snowdrops and satin curtains too, strung about like the innards of a Christmas Elf in a CSI scene, drowning the halls and classrooms into red, violet and song _the whole day._

Now, the idea itself wasn't bad, but when your eyes bled from the bright colours everywhere and there was the constant low romantic music coming from _nowhere_ , it drove a person a little bit crazy. And even though there were people like Flitwick of Sprout who enjoyed a bit of the festivities, McGonagall for instance had to stop mid-lesson to quiet the ever-present music. It had been the fastest change in demeanour anyone ever witnessed in the woman, she just exploded out of nowhere while explaining some particularities about changing a plate into a clock, before yelling 'Will this godforsaken caterwauling just _stop_?', whipping out her wand and silencing the whole class, and then she just continued as if nothing happened. It was a good thing they didn't have Potions of Thursdays, because _this bullshit_ happening during Severus Snape's class was another level of damnation of itself, if the festivities even made it past his classroom door, that is.

And yet, all of that could've been bearable, the low volume love songs, the decorations, those could've been dealt with for just one day. But then came the cherry on top in the form of the Defence teacher declaring at breakfast that several cupids would be flying around all day to give out anonymous love declarations and poems to everyone, from their secret admirers.

Cupids, they were obviously called, but they were actually garden gnomes with feathery wings, wearing diapers and carrying satchels around, and in everyone's opinion looked like a bunch of ugly, animated potatoes with pigeon wings.

And because Lockhart was adamant that this can only be done anonymous and only in real life and not in a digital format, the floodgates were opened for absolutely everyone to safely declare their feelings for one another without the added fear that they would be rejected. Harry did toy for a split second with the idea that he could do that in regards to Neville, but quickly stopped that train of thought.

But obviously, as things went, he had been followed by cupids all day, trying to talk over each other in reading what Harry's cards said. Thankfully, being ever resourceful, Harry either placed a Silencing Charm or just played really loud music from his phone during the whole spiel. So far, it worked, no one, save for Hermione and Draco, who heard only fragments on two separate instances by accident, had overheard the contents of the dozen letters sent to him. Draco got a few, Hermione and Hannah a bunch from who knows whom, and Neville received a handful of appreciation letters rather than love or crushes, which both irritated and calmed Harry down, because at least no one had a crush on his crush, but also being his friend was miffed that he _wasn't_ crushed on a bit.

 

Still, Harry's apparent luck ran out faster than the eye could see. After Defence and on their way to dinner, thankful that they made it through the day and that Astronomy had been cancelled for the day, _it_ happened.

“Come on, let’s hurry before any of those blasted Cupids decide I have to receive another one of those poems today.” Harry groaned, ducking his head and trying to pass unnoticed through the hall. Thankfully, it was crowded enough that the gnomes didn’t pick him up.

“What is up with you? It’s completely harmless the way people have been sending you letter!” Draco lightly slapped his shoulder.

“They’re _unwanted_ advances, that’s what’s wrong with it!” the boy rebutted, trying to walk faster. “I don’t want to get these things from all these people, I just want to eat my dinner in peace and forget this day ever –”

_Crash._

Immediately after turning a corner, something collided with speed and force into someone, sending him backwards on the floor, bag slipping from his shoulder and sending out his things, like his laptop, a few notes and a whole bunch of other things across the floor, unfortunately mixing with the other person’s schoolbag contents, which consisted of thousands of papers and notes.

The irony of the Universe was that the person Harry walked into was none other than Ginny Weasley, which made him start to believe that not crashing her to the floor back in August was a Final Destination type of moment and it had to happen at some point.

“Ow, _what the…_ ” Ginny tried to stay up right. “Merlin’s balls, _Harry_? I am so sorry!”

“No, still my fault, Gin!” Harry chuckled, his shoulder hurting. “Here, let me help you with…” he offered to clean up the mess, moving some papers along and trying to organise them, as did Hermione and Draco, who were closest to them, while Neville and Hannah snickered behind their hands with the rest of the onlookers.

“Wait, no…!” Ginny tried desperately to warn them.

Hermione’s hand brushed up a paper for Charms, revealing underneath a red envelope with a heart on it, the kind Lockhart made available for everyone at the start of the day. Before anyone, especially Harry, could protest, one of the many Cupids flying around at all times swooped in, taking the Valentine card.

But it seemed that word had gone out that Harry Potter was simply not interested in hearing the cards and did anything he could to prevent the gnomes from doing their jobs, so the creature simply started reading it out loud.

“ _Emerald eyes filled with delight_

_Dark hair as black as night_

_A smile brighter than a thousand suns_

_The Boy-Who-Lived, a thief of hearts_

_I wish you could see me, I wish you were mine,_

_Like I do for you, maybe in due time._ ”

 

 The world turned on its head in that moment, as dozens of students stopped to listen the love declaration, cooing and awing, and all the while, Hermione stayed frozen, Draco looked near in tears, Hannah was with her mouth open, Neville looked uncomfortable and Harry was just _stunned_. Still, none of their reactions compared to Ginny’s, with her hands over her mouth and wide eyes, trembling. Only, for some reason, Harry didn’t see it as embarrassment per se, because her cheeks weren’t red, in fact they were devoid of any colour, and she looked _terrified_ , as if something life-threatening had happened. Which was ridiculous in itself, in Harry’s opinion, yes this was embarrassing, yes he was feeling his phone buzzing in his pocket with the by now hundreds of posts about his green eyes and black hair, but it wasn’t scary at all. He wasn’t going to shout at the girl for it, heavens no. But just as he decided to alleviate the situation, Ginny grabbed her things hurriedly and stuffed them in her bag.

“Gin, wait…” Harry tried, standing up, but she was faster than him, turning around and leaving through the crowd, running for dear life. “Ginny!” he cried after her, but she had already vanished.

“Wow.” Draco whistled. “That was intense.”

“That was _horrible_.” Hermione bristled, handing Harry his bag. “Not the poem itself, that was quite lovely, but…”

“Yeah.” Neville decided, looking away. “It was a bit awkward.”

“I hope she’ll be alright.” Hannah said. “Harry?” she turned to her friend, who was busy reading something on his phone.

“What?” the boy whipped his head. “Sorry, just got a message from Dumbledore. Said he wants to talk to me for a moment before dinner.”

“Want us to wait for you in the Great Hall?” Hermione asked, placing a hand on his shoulder, squeezing affectionately.

“Nah, you guys finish eating and head back upstairs. I’ll meet you there.” Harry squeezed Hermione’s hand for a second, before leaving for the Headmaster’s office, trying to put out of his brain Ginny’s sudden declaration of feelings for him. Oh, that was going to be trouble down the line somewhere.

 

“Good evening, Harry. I trust I didn’t take you too soon before your meal?” Dumbledore greeted him ten minutes later, while writing on his computer something.

“Evening, Headmaster.” Harry said casually. “And it’s alright, I’ve been stuffing myself with chocolate the entire day. My own reserves, I promise.” the boy wanted to add, since there was a slight craze of Love Potions around the holiday.

“Not a bad attitude, especially concerning young love within these halls.” Dumbledore chuckled, finally facing Harry. “But I asked you here tonight to discuss with you what happened on the Quidditch pitch last Saturday.” the old man’s voice turned serious.

“Yes, Professor.” Harry figured as much. “I apologise for acting the way I did and throwing Archibald like that on the ground, that was uncalled for and I didn’t have to respond in kind…” he started ranting.

“Harry.” Dumbledore placated him with a serene tone. “No, you have nothing to be sorry about, you did nothing wrong, though I appreciate the fact that you recognise that not every time violence has to be responded with violence, it’s an attitude I hope you remember as you grow older. No, what I wanted to talk to you about was the fact that Thomas Archibald has been suspended from the school temporarily.” the Headmaster explained. “He will undergo a 30-day anger management therapy by court order and will resume his studies after, but he will be fired from his position on the team and his suspension will likely have a severe negative impact on his grades as well. I wanted to tell you personally, as you are the injured party in this matter, and I wanted you to know that it was I who decided not to expel him from this school.”

“It’s alright, Professor Dumbledore.” Harry intervened. “I don’t know Thomas Archibald, I have no desire to know him or interact with him, and as long as he doesn’t cause problems again I’m sure everything will be fine.”

“I didn’t expel him, even though I have all reason to, because I believe in second chances, hard earned as they might be. But I also wish to hear your opinion on the matter, and if you would prefer to have him outside of the school permanently and wish to press charges, that is entirely your right.” Dumbledore continued.

“I don’t care about him, so long as he doesn’t do something like this again to me or anyone else, he’s his own problem.” Harry shrugged. “But thank you for asking me, I appreciate it.”

“You are quite welcome.” Dumbledore sighed and sat back in his seat. “But I hear you are a bit more affected by this than you let on. Severus told me yesterday that you sent in a resignation from the Slytherin Quidditch team. Is he correct?”

Harry squirmed in his seat, trying to come up with a reasonable answer, but in truth he didn’t know why he did it in the first place.

“I did, although I stressed out that it was at the very least temporary, for the rest of the season.” Harry swallowed, fidgeting with his nails. “I just want a break, I mean, I love it and all, I love flying and I love playing and doing all sorts of stunts on the broom, but I’ve met a wall of anger and hate for no reason and I just need a step back to figure out whether this is something I want to do and if I can have the energy necessary to deal with that if it happens again, or if it’s worth it to me to do it when considering the… well, the wall.” he finished lamely.

“I see.” Dumbledore said simply. “While I do encourage you to absolutely take the time to think it through and see how you feel about continuing, I do hope you will not give up your position in the end, because I know you’re a strong individual and plus I quite enjoy your matches.” he smiled

“Really?” Harry shot up his gaze in bewilderment.

“I come to every single one. It is remarkable however, how you manage to –” Dumbledore started pondering, but a few beeps on his computer alerted him that something was going on. “Oh, my.” he raised an eyebrow after two seconds. “‘A smile brighter than a thousand suns’?” he chuckled, and Harry groaned loudly.

“No, please!” the boy hid his face. “That was beyond mortifying, and now the whole internet is on about it!” he whined.

“I apologise.” Dumbledore laughed shortly and tried to cover his smile that conveyed just how sorry he was. “But when you get to be my age you find these things endearing. Now, I think I took enough of your time, unless there was something else you wanted to talk about, since you’re here?”

Harry took a mental deep breath. He thought better of it a few days ago after the match, but now when faced with the Headmaster, who took the time to personally explain his resolution of the confrontation between the boy and Archibald and wanted his opinion, there was now a slight conflict in him. Perhaps he was a bit hasty when trying to withhold this from Dumbledore and not tell him about the diary, maybe this was the Universe giving him a sign that it was the right thing to do after not succeeding with in on his own, so he silently tried to move it from his bag, placing his hand inside of it out of Dumbledore’s sight.

But then _horror_ , as the only things he found was his laptop, his notes, his chargers and water bottle, but not the diary itself. Something must’ve shown on his face, because the man urged him to say something.

“Harry? Is everything all right?” the Headmaster had a strange look on his face.

“Hmmm?” Harry snapped out of it. “Oh, sorry, just thinking about what will I do when that poem goes viral.” he lied. “But no, everything’s fine. May I…?” he gestured towards the door.

“Of course.” Dumbledore motioned. “Have a pleasant evening, Harry. Stay safe.”

“You too, Headmaster. Thank you.” Harry hurried out of the office faster than he should’ve, but it didn’t matter now how strangely he was perceived.

 

At the bottom of the stairs to the office, he rummaged through his entire bag, taking everything out of it and trying to deny what he was witnessing. But it was clear as day the fact that Tom Riddle’s diary was no longer in his possession, the exact moment he wanted to tell Dumbledore about it and it was just _gone_.

But… How? He distinctly remembered placing it in his bag every day for weeks and today was no exception. His bag had no holes in it, it was with him at all times and nobody went through it.

 _The fall_. Harry thought. He crashed into Ginny earlier and it must’ve spilled onto the floor and then… The helper! They must’ve been in the crowd and saw it and then took it back! But who? There had to be security footage of it, Harry was sure...

But one thing was clear. He had to tell his friends what happened. He had the weapon to open the Chamber of Secrets and now he lost it. There was no way he could find it on his own this time, he needed them.

If they forgave him, that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BACK!  
> Oh my gosh, I'm sorry it took so long, I've had things in my personal life that prevented me from writing as much, and some things didn't work out, sadly, but I'm back now and I will continue to try to keep you on your toes! Also, the display of my laptop died on me, something happened with the connectors to the screen, I had to keep pushing the bottom of the screen forward so that I can get a picture, so I bought a second-hand laptop yesterday so that I can write and I stayed up until SIX AM today to make the fucking touchpad to work when I upgraded to Windows 8.1 (purely software, the laptop is working perfectly), and all in all I had a bunch of shit happening this week and the past few weeks but that's no matter now.
> 
> First, let me tell you that I don't know what happened with the formatting from the middle of the chapter, something in Word fucked up badly. Secondly, I just love writing the gang laughing together and doing nothing, even if I realise that it this chapter is mostly filler and so is the next one. In case you were wondering, yes, the diary did influence Harry a bit to not trust Dumbledore by fuelling the emotion of mistrust, and when it was gone that feeling wasn't with Harry anymore. Still, too little too late.
> 
> And... I didn't want to do this, but I have a surprise for you. See, because it's been so long, and because one of my readers and commentators had a birthday this week (Happy Birthday, Nathan!), I decided that I would post TWO chapters on the same day! It should arrive within a few minutes of this one, I just have to read through it again. See you later!


	23. The Final Blow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the tension breaks up friendships, the final horror awaiting to happen comes to pass, and Harry is left with very few choices along the way. The threat is real and deadly.

            The walk back from Dumbledore's office had been the longest journey in Harry's life, and that was saying something. It was worse than that time he had went to the library by himself and knew he was in for a world of punishment when he got back home; Petunia was his caretaker and his aunt, she had been more than in her right to ground him from leaving after he went out without saying anything. The reaction he was bound to get from his friends was going to kill him, because they didn't possess the power to send him to his room, but they could do something much hurtful in retribution – they could leave.

            Harry had betrayed their trust. It was that simple and horrifying a truth, yet he desperately wished he had an excuse, that the power of the diary intrigued him enough to manipulate his thoughts and make him hide its existence. Then again, if that was the case, that meant that the desire already existed in Harry, the dark object just brought it out in him.

            There was no winning in this situation. He could lie to himself and scream and cry all he wanted, but there wasn't another responsible party for his actions. The diary didn't make him hide it, Riddle didn't influence his mind, he was the one that decided to keep this secret and he had to face the consequences. He couldn't very well proclaim that he fought and believed in justice and then just run from it when he came under scrutiny. Harry may be a lot of things, some good, some bad, but the thing he wasn't going to be was a hypocrite.

            The walls closed in on him, crushing in on him as the air got harder and harder to process in his lungs, the blood rushing through his veins and heart speeding like a frightened animal away from its prey. _Shame,_ Harry realised. It was shame that he felt, raw and unending.

            He waited for a few moments outside of the door to the Room. He remembered Neville's choice in security for their private space, their refuge and later their dormitory – Only a friend may pass. It was undoubtedly easy to understand back then, but it never dawned on the boy just how _complex_ it actually was. Since its implementation, that security kept them hidden from everyone else who got too close to their dorm, either the odd wandering soul or the curious student, who wanted to see where the famous Harry Potter managed to get a private sleeping quarter. In both cases the Room directed the person into another section of it, some other created space designed to reflect the user's desires. Anyone who got in by accident would likely find what their mind was thinking of, or a close enough version, and the ones who wanted to get it but couldn't just took one look after opening the door, then closed it immediately – the Room didn't figure that either of those cases were _friends_ , because the first didn't try to find Harry and the rest, and the second wanted to get in for selfish reasons. Which when taking in account the fact that R got in meant that they were at least safe from them, but R was weird when it came to security measures, so that was still up for debate.

            He thought about it, how you had to be a friend to enter, and some part of him was terrified that once he opened the door he would see what the rest of his fans saw, a broom or a supply closet. He hanged around the door enough for someone to notice him on the security cameras he placed outside.

            Draco @Scarheads: _Potter, you can come in, you know. We're not dancing naked here._

            Neville @Scarheads: _Harry, is everything all right?_

            Hannah @Scarheads: _Yeah, mate, you're standing there all depressed like, it's weird to see you like that._

            Harry drew in a big breath, closing his eyes and clasping his hand on the cold metal handle, and pushed. The Room was all the same as always, and that comforted Harry immensely – at the very least, he was still considered a friend.

            But then he remembered that he had something to do still. His friends looked at him expectantly, with various degrees of concern on their faces, ranging from Neville who looked like he wanted to wrap Harry into a blanket, Draco who was frowning like it was an Olympic sport, Hermione who looked utterly confused and Hannah with a raised eyebrow.

            “Uh, the rest of the Five Awesome Friends would like to know if you’re okay.” Hannah made a face.

            “Harry, you look a bit pale. Did the meeting with Dumbledore not turn out okay?” Hermione asked from her usual spot on the couch, while the rest just stared at him as he sat in the doorway like a moron. “Did he say something worrisome?”

            “No, it’s…” Harry caught a lump in his throat and couldn’t meet their eyes properly, no matter how hard he tried; something inside him just wouldn’t let him see their love and concern for him at the moment, he didn’t deserve to. “Dumbledore was perfectly fine, just wanted to see how I was doing and to confirm that Archibald was indeed suspended.” he walked towards the coffee table and sat down on it, bag slumping to the ground with a thud.

            “Then…?” Neville tried to get the boy to continue, obviously on pins and needles.

            “I have something to tell you.” Harry added gravely.

            “We gathered that much, thank you!” Draco huffed.

            “And, uh… you’re not going to like it. At all.” Harry said lamely.

            “Will. You. Just. Say it?!” Hannah punctuated.

            The next five minutes were the absolute worst of Harry’s life. He would’ve taken on a thousand Voldemorts at the same time if it meant not standing there, guilt eating at him while he spun his telling of how he came to possess the diary, what it was, how he interacted with it and how he lost it. And above all, how he kept all of that for weeks from them.

 

            They simply stared at him expressionless after he finished. No one said a word during all of this, not one exclamation, no shouting of betrayal, _nothing_. It was as if someone turned off the emotion of the room, leaving only tension behind, like some fucked up version of Pandora’s box with feelings.

            “Were you ever going to clue us in about this?” Draco said carefully, but his mouth showed signs of anger.

            “Yes.” Harry groaned, looking at his feet.

            “When?” the boy continued.

            “After I finished trying to fish out information about it and told Dumbledore about its existence.” Harry closed his eyes, fighting back the sting of tears, fidgeting with his fingers.

            “And?” Neville croaked.

            “But then I lost it, somehow. Must’ve been in the confusion when the incident with the Valentine card with Ginny happened, I’ll have to ask Artpy to check security…” Harry groaned.

            “How dare you.” spoke a voice.

            The pure venom in the words shocked Harry to the core. He raised his gaze to see Hermione sitting in front of him, arms and legs crossed, and a furious expression on her, the likes which Harry had never seen. Expecting it was one thing, but actually witnessing it was terrifying. Her lips were pursed into a thin, white line, her eyes narrowed in on him, like she was trying to punch a hole in his forehead with a single look, and her knuckles were white from where she grabbed her own arm – Harry was worried she was refraining from _hitting_ him.

            Her posture, attitude and feelings were understandable and justified. Still, it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt Harry worse than anything Voldemort ever did to him.

            “I’m sorry.” Harry said in a meek voice, but it was too late. The damage had been done, and Hermione was beyond angry at him.

            “How _dare_ you cast us aside and not include us into this!?” Hermione screeched, standing up, and Harry couldn’t even look away, taking in all the hurt and betrayal she was projecting at him. “We are supposed to be friends, Harry, and you couldn’t even _bother_ to let us know you have a lead, or anything that might clue us in about the location of the Chamber!”

            “I didn’t tell you because I wanted to keep you safe.” Harry replied.

            “That doesn’t excuse your behaviour _at all_!” Hermione flared her nostrils and gesticulated pointedly.

            “I didn’t say it did, I’m just saying why.” Harry replied calmly, knowing fully well he didn’t have any reason to be upset for her getting angry.

            “And that’s _better_?” Hermione looked ready to kick him in the face. “You _lied_ to us, for _weeks_ , and all you can say is that you were doing it to keep us safe?”

            “I meant you, Hermione.” Harry revealed.

            “I – what?” at this some of her anger dissipated and the boy felt a slight ray of hope.

            “You didn’t interact with it, Riddle’s diary is _actually_ him from when he was sixteen, a memory, true, but it was the boy that became the monster, the one who set out the basilisk on Muggleborns and _killed_ one.” Harry argued. “It’s early years Voldemort, I couldn’t in good conscience let you go anywhere _near_ it, who knows what might’ve happened then? And it would’ve been even less fair to you if I told everyone else about it and you were kept in the dark, so…” Harry braced himself. “You were all kept from it.”

            “Harry, we could’ve helped you, maybe managed to uncover something you couldn’t and maybe have a real shot and ending the attacks.” Hannah sighed.

            “Trust me, that diary was pure _evil_ , it was like it was actually _part_ of Voldemort somehow, and its power was completely intoxicating, I had trouble keeping myself from getting drawn in multiple times.” Harry shuddered, remembering how the lure of the object sometimes lulled him into a hungry desire for the power it whispered about.

            “So, what, now we’re too _weak_ to be of any help?” Hermione picked up again her wrath.

            “That’s not what I meant.” Harry shook his head.

            “That’s exactly what you meant!” the girl screeched and Harry _swore_ that the Room rattled under her voice. “You don’t think we’re strong enough, because we’re not like you, because we’re not as powerful as you or something, so you think that just because you have these abilities that it somehow makes you _better_ than the rest of us and we’re just side-characters for your convenience!”

            “I don’t think that, Hermione.” Harry’s lower lip trembled. “I care for you more than…”

            “If you cared so much then you would’ve said something _the second_ you got that blasted diary in the first place!” Hermione was in tears.

            “How can you think I don’t value you or your input after everything we’ve been through together?” Harry had no words for her outburst.

            “How can you keep something like this _after_ all we’ve been through!” Hermione shouted. “We’ve proven time and time again that we will be here for you when you need us, we chose you to lead us, to protect this school and ourselves! You could’ve gone to Dumbledore in all this time! Do you even stop to consider the fact that you’re not the smartest wizard out there? Or is your ego preventing you from thinking clearly?”

            “Hermione…” Neville tried to stop her from ranting, but she was too far gone now. And somewhere in the background there was the faint sound of glass creaking and cracking, magic pouring out of her. Harry stood up and tried to take a step back.

            “But no, you don’t think it through, because you think you’re allowed to do things your own way because you’ve always got to!” Hermione spat angrily at Harry, looking him dead in the eye. “Did you even use that brain of yours to process the fact that by giving Riddle’s diary to Dumbledore, _he_ could’ve uncovered things you couldn’t because he’s decades above you in researching magic? Or the fact that it might’ve given us answers about Voldemort and how to defeat him, or at the very least stop the attacks once and for all!”

            The cracking was now getting louder.

            “’Mione, I know, and I’m sorry, I only tried…” Harry said.

            “Don’t you _Mione_ me, Potter!” the girl’s hair frizzed even more than before. “You had the chance to do the right thing…”

            “Granger…” Draco tried to warn them as the cracking got louder.

            Neville and Hannah looked uncertain about what to do, looking around fearfully. Everything was shaking and creaking around them in perfect sync with Hermione’s tone, and Harry understood that _she_ was doing all of this, that her rage was being sent out through her untamed magic, a primal aspect of it at the very least, reaching out of her mind and trying to find something to anchor itself to. Only, there was nothing to be anchored at, because her teenage mind was angry at everything right about now because of Harry, and her magic tried to simulate that by going all over the place.

            This was it. This was the moment Hermione lost it completely. And they were powerless to stop it.

            “And you _blew it_!” Hermione gritted, fists trembling as the room _vibrated_.

            “Hermione, come on, you need to…” Neville tried.

            “No!” Hermione turned to him in a flash. “He needs to hear this! He needs to know that what he did is wrong and he has to accept the fact that if _anybody_ else is attacked by the basilisk then it’s completely _on him_ , because he couldn’t do what he was supposed to do!”

            “I only did it to protect you!” Harry gave up and yelled right back, emotions taking over. “That diary has unbelievable amounts of Dark Magic, Artpy tried to _blow me up_ the second she discovered that, and you’re a Muggleborn, do you even think what would have happened if you so much as touched the _essence_ of the Dark Lord that is also a blood purist?”

            “Then you should’ve gone to Dumbledore _immediately_!” Hermione wasted no time on getting right back in Harry’s face.

            “Well, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t!” Harry said frustrated. “I had the chance to learn about the man that killed my family, I’m sorry I kept it from you, but I what I am not sorry for is the fact that I wanted to know how someone can just kill like that and feel no remorse about it!”

            “Your life isn’t the only one’s Voldemort wrecked, Harry, you’re not the absolute authority on it or the only one that deserves answers!” Hermione argued. “Neville’s parents are in a catatonic state, Draco’s father is a madman, Hannah’s mum is dead and I have to deal everyday with slurs, sneers and people looking at me differently because I come from another world to them, because _he_ instilled hatred towards people born of Muggles!”

            “But your parents are _alive_!” Harry roared. “Both of them! Happy little dentists that watched their only daughter grow up and become a witch, and I didn’t get that! Fine, I should’ve said something, but I was completely within my rights to learn more about the person who destroyed Lily and James and because I am supposed to stop him at some point, I had more than enough reason to do it myself!”

            “For god’s sake, Harry, you weren’t simply left alone in the world, you have an actual family that took you in and loved you! You can justify this all you want, but the fact remained that then you did the most idiotic and _selfish_ thing you can possibly do, out of a mind-boggling fascination with a young Voldemort, because you can’t accept that your parents are _dead_!” Hermione intoned with a loud voice.

            Harry’s mind went blank for a moment. There was no word in any human language to express his feelings at the moment, for the way Hermione looked at him with all of her wrath and the horror of what she said to him. The boy suddenly forgone all of his guilt and shame about what he did, because while Hermione was more than justified to be angry, talking about Harry’s parents like they shouldn’t mean anything to him crossed a very dangerous line.

            Hermione blinked several times before she clasped a hand on her mouth, eyes wide in regret, trembling from all the adrenaline.

            “Harry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that…” the room stopped rattling.

            “You don’t get to tell me what I can or cannot feel, Granger, because you have absolutely no idea how it is to wake up every day and know that your own mother and father will never get to love you back because some sick, twisted fuck shot them down in their own homes, while you get to enjoy having a life time of vacations and photos and memories that _I won’t have_.” Harry gritted. “I did what I did for selfish reasons, and the only reason you’re upset right now is because the absolute _know-it-all_ had no fucking clue.”

            “ _Warning, atm –”_ Artpy tried to say, but her voice was covered up by what came next.

 

            It was as if the world imploded.

            Thousands of shards of glass burst out of the windows inside, cutting holes through the drapes, embedding themselves into everything they could find with sharp precision, splinters from the wood flying off from the walls, the floor and the furniture, hitting even the True Scribble, which shorted when a huge chunk of the wall went right through it.

            Harry and the others ducked, covering their heads. There was barely any time to throw a shield to protect them from the storm like attack. Raising their heads, they could see Hermione standing there, trembling from anger, fists curled up into balls, hair almost as if it was electrified.

            “Go to hell.” she gritted, before she stormed off, walking out the door with thundering steps, crashing the door behind her.

            They all stared at each other and at the devastation the girl brought with her. Her power never once wavered, never seemed anything but in perfect control, just her, but it came out, and it came out wild and untamed, a wrathful horror that unleashed itself on a moment’s notice and threatened to tear them apart. Harry didn’t even want to consider what would’ve happened if he hadn’t protected them in time.

            “What just happened?” Draco managed to breathe.

            “I think we just survived the Apocalypse.” Hannah said, then immediately turned to Harry. “What the hell was that about?”

            “I’m not the one you should be yelling at, Hannah, because I am not the one who destroyed our living room, nearly speared Neville with glass and then left!” Harry gestured towards the chunks behind the aforementioned boy, which were pushed back by the raven-haired boy’s shield.

            “Only because you upset her!” Hannah groaned.

            “So she gets no responsibility in doing all of this?" Harry shouted incredulously. " _Reparo_!" he intoned, twirling both his hands at the Room, reversing the damage done, but the spell itself took more out of him than expected. Clearly, Hermione’s destructive streak was trying to instil itself deep and permanent. But the shards and splinters flew back in their place and the _True Scribble_ ’s screen cleared itself and turned back on like nothing happened.

            “Harry, _come on_!” Neville spoke after everything went back to normal. “You can’t pretend you had nothing to do with it.”

            “I am _not_!” Harry replied forcefully. “I know what I did, I know that it was wrong, I am sorry that I did it and I apologised and she and all of you get to hate me for it, but when I want to take out my anger I don’t do it on my friends, even when I’m upset with them!” he turned around and started walking towards his room.

            “And where do you think you’re going?” Draco shouted.

            “To my own bedroom, before one of you decides the right course of action is to stab me with glass shards, _again_!” Harry turned back on his heels, watching their hurt faces at the accusation.

            “Harry –” Neville tried, and it pained the boy to no end to see that pleading look in his eyes, begging him to stay and calm down, to talk about it, to try and repair the situation. But he closed the door, loudly, and just schlumped down on the floor with his back against the wood, holding his face in his hands, sobbing quietly.

            “ _They are simply trying to be there for you, Mister Potter. They cannot be if you’re not letting them._ ” Artpy said from his phone.

            “Nobody asked you!” Harry tossed the phone on his bed and opened the windows with a flick of his wrist. He walked up to the balcony with determined steps, standing up on the stone railing. The wind blew in his face, cold and unforgiving, but it wouldn’t bother him any further. He raised an invisible shield around him, covering him from head to toe, before extending his arms out and let gravity pull him towards the ground beneath.

 

            And then Harry soared through the air, faster than ever before, going upwards, further and further, reversing the momentum from his fall to gain altitude. It was a neat trick, channelling his power to switch the direction in which gravity affected him while maintaining the same speed – he should’ve been torn apart, his human body wouldn’t be able to sustain the sudden shift in such a short time, not without serious flight armour, but his power was never going to let him get hurt, like it had a mind of its own and its sole purpose was to keep him safe.

            He flew, above the trees and the Black Lake, above the hills surrounding them, above the river that connected to the ocean, going higher and higher, increasing the speed, until it was all a blur to him, trees and rocks and earthly things that were pinned down by nature, unable to move, unable to see all that he could. But not him – he was free, he could go wherever he wanted, travel to places most people dreamed of, unbound by anything.

            His mind went numb as the rest of him just continued to fly beyond the realms of mankind and into the open seas, where no one could find him. Time was left behind, a human concept that no longer concerned him, no longer weighing him down like everything else. Hours were second and eons all at once, but all that mattered was that he continued on his path.

            Out here no one could be hurt by him. Out here no one could hurt him in return. There was nothing, except for the clear skies and the endless sea beneath. The cold and the wind didn’t touch him, could never hope to reach him – he was utterly remote and devoid of contact, the only thing that reached him was the oxygen in the air, as rare as it was in the air, to him it was normal, breathing without any difficulty, even kilometres above the waters.

            And then he stopped.

            He stood there, floating into nothing, unmoving. The wind should’ve been howling into his ears, deafening him, but his shield moved it around him seamlessly, like he wasn’t there. Instead, it was quiet. Utterly, impossibly quiet. He was too far from the water below to hear the waves, and so far away and high above there were no birds or any type of creature to be near. This was the one place where nothing could truly live besides him. He could’ve stood there for eternity, if he went back and took the Philosopher’s Stone he could’ve spent the rest of time floating here. And no one would find him – his shield protected him from thermal imaging, he was too small to be picked up by a satellite, a detection spell would point him to be nowhere; there wasn’t enough magic or technology in the world right now to ever be found. And even if that changed, by the time it did the world he knew would be long gone and no one would look for him. He had the option to spend forever in this place, watching the sun and the sea, alone.

            He shook his head out of a sudden. That was just stupid of him, thinking that he could abandon it all, when so much depended on him. He screwed things up and it was his job to fix them, not run away in fear. He wasn’t a coward, he could never be one. He had to go back. He had to go and figure it out. There were Muggleborns in danger and people in the Hospital Wing that depended on his help.

            Unfortunately, he had no way of knowing where exactly he should be headed. He went somewhere southwest on Scotland, passing by Ireland entirely and was now in the middle of the Atlantic, and in his desperation to isolate himself so stupidly, he wasn’t paying attention to the exact path he took. He could veer back northeast, but one degree wrong and he would either end up in France or in bloody Norway.

            “Ah, fuck me!” Harry swore in the ether. He really wished he hadn’t discarded his phone, at least he would have GPS and it could point him towards the right place, even if one megabyte of data would shoot up his phone bill out here. If he could just make it appear right in his…

 _Hang on_.

            He had an idea, a really terrible one with dangerous side-effects if he didn’t do it right. One slip, one moment of uncertainty, and it would end _horrible_ for him. But unless he wanted to fly around Western Europe and bring down the Statute of Secrecy, this was his only shot.

            He couldn’t do it inside the castle or on the grounds, but if he managed to do it someplace near, somewhere close enough but not in the area in which it wouldn’t work, then he might have a chance. There was the slightest possibility that it would trigger the Trace on him, since it was resorting to ‘normal’ magic that the Ministry could detect and not just his inexplicable telekinesis, but the way Harry understood it was that it worked in areas in which there were Muggles around, i.e. anywhere that wasn’t his home or a magically inclined area. It may not extend to the middle of the ocean and in international waters, where there was absolutely no jurisdiction to anyone, to whom he would have to face repercussions? The merpeople? That, and the fact that he knew there was a certain limit to how far you could do it, but that shouldn’t be a problem for him.

            He did it before, once, when he was younger and scared, wishing with all his might to be someplace else, hidden from everyone. Was that all it took? Pure determination to simply _move_ from one spot to another without using your legs? Harry couldn’t have imagined it was that easy, there must’ve been something more complicated involved.

            He tried visualising his destination, a rocky mountaintop he visited nearly a year before, meeting with Charlie Weasley and his associates to hand over Norberta to them. It was supposed to be far away from the grounds that it would be safe. He could almost see it in his mind eye, and he felt… something – a pull, somewhere behind his navel, from an invisible tether connecting him to that place, tugging gently at him as if to indicate that it was there, waiting patiently.

            Harry closed his eyes and wanted to move. And then he was pulled through familiar rubber tubes, eyes pulled back into his head, eardrums squished forcefully into his skull, lungs frozen… And then it stopped, in the fraction of a second that it began.

            He opened his eyes to see himself standing on the mountain, looking over at the castle below him, beyond the forest. He just Apparated, successfully, for a second time.

            His friends were sitting on the couch when he entered the living room, watching something on the board. Hermione wasn’t with them, and something told Harry that she wasn’t in her room also.

            “Hey.” he croaked weakly, announcing his presence, making everyone turn their heads to him.

            “You’ve been in there for a few hours.” Hannah remarked simply.

            “Yeah, look, I know you all hate me right now, and you have every right to…” Harry started, trembling with guilt and shame once more.

            “We don’t hate you, Potter, we’re just upset with you right now, and so is Granger.” Draco rolled his eyes and sat back in his seat, sighing deeply. “And I think we speak for all of us when I say that we feel a bit betrayed that you didn’t trust us.”

            “I trust you.” Harry swallowed, calming down and joining them on the couch, huddling close. “I trust you with my life, absolutely, there is no question about it.”

            “But you didn’t trust us with _our_ lives.” Hannah figured.

            “That’s not it.” Harry shook his head. “I wasn’t going to risk you as well as me in this situation, we all know, deep down but we never say it, that I am the one who will have to deal with Voldemort at some point, not you, not Dumbledore, not anyone – I’m the one who stopped him, ended his reign of terror, I am personally responsible for his near-death; to him, I am his biggest enemy and he won’t stop coming after me, and I won’t stop coming after him. So I had to do this…”

            “We can understand that, Harry.” Neville said. “We can understand wanting to be prepared, wanting inside knowledge of the man that you are going to face, but doing it alone is what’s going to kill you.” he continued gravely. “Voldemort may have followers, but he doesn’t have friends, he doesn’t have equals; if he did, then maybe he could’ve killed you twelve years ago.”

            “If he did, he wouldn’t be Voldemort at all.” Draco pointed out.

            “So, to my understanding, you kept this diary from us because it was dangerous, correct?” Hannah tried to reason with Harry.

            “Yes.” the boy responded simply.

            “How dangerous?” she asked.

            “Artpy?” Harry sighed deeply.

            “ _Tom Riddle’s diary_ _exhibited unquantifiable levels of Dark Magic, none of which appear on any record – Mister Potter’s personal notes state that the object itself is sentient, able to formulate responses and thoughts to a 100% accuracy of its original owner. They also state that it tries to influence anyone who uses it, manipulating emotions and desires, twisting them to reflect the darkest aspects of one’s personality, until finally they could plausibly be under its control._ ” the voice of the machine came from their devices.

“Shite.” Hannah swore.

            “Quite.” Harry agreed.

            “Wait, hold up a bloody second – Artpy _knew_?” Draco looked flabbergasted.

            “I’m not a _complete_ moron, Draco.” Harry looked unimpressed. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to be in danger, but if something happened to me, Artpy would immediately notify you of the situation.”

            “ _Mister Potter programmed emergency contingency protocols before interacting with the diary._ ” Artpy supplied.

            “Oh, lovely to know that if you die because you’re stupid at least we’ll get a notification!” Hannah smacked the upside of Harry’s head. “Do you realise how _insensitive_ that sounds? What if you were under the control of that thing right now? How would Artpy know, seeing as you’re physically unharmed?”

            “ _Mister Potter went under daily psychological and physical evaluations during the time he interacted with the diary; apart from developing a fascination for it, there was no cause for concern._ ”

            “Harry, it still wasn’t right, no matter how careful you were. You have to tell us these things, otherwise what’s the point of us being here, fighting together, preparing for the worst?” Hannah had enough and stood up to look at him. “You saw what happened, Hermione just _walked_ out after trashing the place because you couldn’t bring yourself to be honest with us. We trust you, Harry, but that doesn’t give you the right to lie to us.”

            “You’re right.” Harry agreed, ignoring the hurt in his chest at the mention of the girl. “It was wrong of me to keep you in the dark and I apologise. Do you think you can forgive me?” he pleaded.

            “We forgive you, Harry.” Neville replied earnestly. “So long as you remember to share with us things from time to time.”

            “Harry, we can understand not telling us things to protect us from harm – sometimes knowing things can get you into trouble, and I think we are aware on some level that there will be times where you’ll have to withhold things to keep us safe, but it doesn’t mean you have to go at it alone, and it doesn’t mean that we’re not here to help you no matter what.” Hannah sighed deeply and placed her hand on his shoulder, rubbing it. “Hermione will calm down, you will see. And then you two can have a long chat about this and you can earn her trust back.” she smiled.

 

            But it seemed like Hannah’s words rang hollow, after all.

            It had been weeks and Hermione still wasn’t speaking to him. Not in class, not after class, not joining them for lunch, training… There was zero interaction to be had. Most days, Harry never even caught a glimpse of her, because like him she had the Marauder’s Map and could easily avoid him. No matter how much he wanted to go to her and talk things out, apologise for what he said, she was always one step ahead of him, evading his every try of reconciliation.

            And it was even worse – she didn’t come back to the Room. Harry waited many nights on the sofa with two cups of warm cocoa, her favourite late night drink, but she never walked through those doors again, and instead he just spent the night there, with a blanket on his shoulders and kept waiting. Her bedroom was sealed shut, as the door wouldn’t budge under any circumstances, but Harry suspected that the actual bedroom was long gone and the door that remained was _his_ desire that the Room was fulfilling, that Hermione could still come back. Sadly, having never entered the girl’s dormitory before, the Room didn’t know how to produce it from his mind and instead made a door into a wall. Hannah said that she heard Hermione went back into the Ravenclaw tower for the time being.

            It was worse than torture. The only times she was near was when they had classes together, which was all the time, but she stood somewhere out of his field of view and was uncharacteristically quiet the whole time, and bolted two seconds before the bell rang. The others didn’t have much luck with her as well, but at least she was speaking with them, even though she wasn’t exactly pleased that they forgave Harry.

            The boy wanted her back, desperately, not just for her help against the basilisk, but because he missed her dearly and couldn’t fathom a world where Hermione Granger wasn’t by his side. They all held special places in his heart, each for different reasons, but Hermione was the first to reach out to him and make a friend, and she was so much like him, an outsider into the world of magic, clawing at every piece of information about the magical and the wonderous they could find… She got along with him in ways the others couldn’t, because they grew up with magic, but the two didn’t, so it bonded them in a special way, that they were the ones who had to fight for their right to belong to a world they didn’t live in, her more than him. And for Hermione to be gone, out of Harry’s life, was completely depressive for the boy, like he lost a part of himself, the reassurance that he had someone like him vanished and more importantly, he lost a friend and he had no idea how to get her back.

 

            Training in the Arena didn’t help much, but it did take his mind of things. Artpy finally got an instructor update from Herbert, a _huge_ file that slowed the entire castle’s network as it downloaded into the computer’s mainframe. But it was worth it.

            “ _Left foot slightly more forward, Mister Potter_.” Artpy corrected him.

            He was in a session, trying to master hand-to-hand combat, since he was wary there would be times where his magic wouldn’t be enough to help him, but it was a lot harder than it looked. Artpy was the world’s strictest instructor, perhaps because she was a supercomputer and could detect if your stance was wrong even by half a millimetre and had no qualms about calling you out about it. It was her job, but still.

            “Isn’t there like an option for you to take in account human error?” Harry sighed and did as he was told. “I’m never going to exactly stand perfect, you know!”

            “ _I have, Mister Potter. But by my calculations, you are still outside the allotted capacity for human error, given your profile. Right foot more to the right._ ”

            “How long until you can just zap in my head and make me just know these things?” Harry groaned.

            “ _This isn’t the Matrix, Mister Potter._ ” Artpy replied.

            “Did you just talk _back_?” Harry made a face at the celling.

            “ _I believe it is called a ‘reply’._ ”

            “Okay, let’s try it another way… Since we’re still at the beginning, can’t you use the micro-generators to move me in the right way until my body gets used to the position naturally?” Harry sighed.

            “ _Excellent idea, Mister Potter. Beginning assisted training module – standby._ ” Artpy announced as the Arena whirred.

            “I thought this was already assisted – Hey!” Harry yelped as his body moved on its own, placing him in the correct stance. He found that he couldn’t move at all, most likely because the shields were holding him firmly all over. It was a good thing Artpy was on his side.

            “ _Assisted training module started. Would you also like a demonstration of a simulated-simulated combat?_ ”

            “Go for it, yeah!” Harry laughed as the computer produced a human figure made of light, like some sort of neon mannequin.

            Artpy then moved him with frightening precision and force to combat the artificial opponent, landing lavish kicks and punches, but in reality it wasn’t doing much at all, as the figure mimicked the attack before defending against Artpy-Harry’s on repeat.

            “Isn’t this a bit like fighting yourself?” Harry asked as his body moved around on its own, doing things he only saw in movies.

            “ _The demonstration is meant to display the correct manner of attack and the subsequent defensive move. Please pay attention, Mister Potter._ ” Artpy chided him as best she could with a monotone voice.

            “I _am_ , but it’s not like I can just replicate something after seeing it.” he complained as he did a somersault without powers over the opponent’s head and kicked it in the back.

            “ _I believe that with muscle memory, your body will be able to replicate perfectly what I am doing._ ” Artpy said.

            “Yeah, but only if you slowly let go and only correct me less over time.” Harry countered as his body contorted into a flying, rotating kick that finally ended his opponent and the simulation.

            “ _I believe that can be accomplished._ ” Artpy replied, letting go of him.

            “Wow, what was _that_?” came Neville’s voice as he approached the desk with Hannah and Draco in tow.

            “Just Artpy’s way of instructing me. Don’t worry, I didn’t do any of that, it was just her moving me.” Harry said as he sat down in the middle chair and drank his water.

            “Okay, that was _scary_ , even for you.” Draco shuddered. “And that was no power at all? Merlin…”

            “Well, in a few years we might be able to do that on our own. Though I doubt that Voldemort will care if we know kung-fu.” Hannah said sarcastically.

            “ _Mister Potter, I have two new notifications._ ” Artpy declared suddenly.

            “What, someone liked his photos on Quickpic?” Draco sneered. “Potter, stop using the expensive supercomputer for social media notifications.”

            “I’m not using Artpy for apps, Draco, jeesh!” Harry rebutted. “These are important things. Artpy?” he asked.

            “ _Madame Pomfrey has flagged her analysis of your blood sample as ‘Complete’ just moments ago._ ”

            “Wait, _now_?” Neville frowned. “It’s been ages and the sample was used since before R paid you a visit, how could she find something after all this time?”

            “ _That would be correct, Mister Longbottom. Madam Pomfrey’s findings were inconclusive, and by judging her analysis, I reached the same conclusion. The only reason she marked this task as complete is because she has no more theories._ ”

            “Meaning?” Harry asked.

            “ _Her findings would suggest that Mister Potter has no magical core to speak of._ ” Artpy said.

            “Yeah, which is _impossible_!” Hannah huffed. “You can’t be able to do magic if you don’t have a source for it in you.”

            “ _Precisely, Miss Abbott. A magical individual is not able to cast magic if they do not have an Omega Core structured within the tissue of their heart, which then carries the Omega Waves into the bloodstream and subsequently into their whole body. Madame Pomfrey has found that Mister Potter’s blood doesn’t carry the Omega Waves, what we colloquially call ‘magic’, into his body and has no apparent source for it anywhere in his organs._ ” Artpy replied.

            “I’m sensing a ‘but’ coming.” Neville added.

            “ _However, as empirical evidence suggests, Mister Potter is capable of producing magic, at an even higher rate than the average witch or wizard. As of a minute ago, Madam Pomfrey has attached several hand-written notes on the file, consisting of various calculations and comments she made for the last four months._ ”

            The screens changed in front of them, producing numerous scanned pages of what looked like scribbles and lines upon lines of equations, with small letters in the margins, some lines cut entirely, others put in parenthesises to signal possibilities – it was a lot to take in at first glance.

            “Oh, what the _hell_?” Hannah exclaimed, peering closer at the same time with the others.

            “‘Presents outstanding capabilities for magic… Blood sample has a magical signature but no known source for it, as the Omega Waves are not present in arterial chambers… Omega Ray Counter able to detect high traces of magic in subject, but no decay over time, even as sample coagulates…’ my god, she went off the deep end here.” Harry read out loud.

            “Look at all those equations!” Neville exclaimed. “It looks more like an in-depth ancient runes study rather than math! Who could even read this stuff?”

            “Integral of f of x with respect to x over the domain from 1 to delta, whereas delta is square root of time plus mass divided by 2, and f of x is limit of x when x tends to…” Draco said without pause, eyes firmly shot on the screen.

            “ _Okay_!” Hannah shouted over him. “Do not, ever in my presence, do that again. That was _rude_.”

            “The bloody hell is it with you and math?” Harry asked out of the blue.

            “It’s long and complicated is what it is!” Hannah rebutted. “I don’t need Einstein here to remind of it.” she motioned with her head towards the other blond.

            “Relax, it’s not like I can actually solve the thing myself, I can only read it.” Draco rolled his eyes. “But from what I can tell, Pomfrey was trying to find out the amount of magic in your blood to determine where it comes from.”

            “Uh, the correlation being?” Neville made a confused gesture.

            “You can determine fairly easy the age of a blood cell, and with a magical one…” Draco started.

            “You can calculate a point of origin by tracking the path and measuring the decay in magic in the blood.” Harry glossed over the screens. “Doesn’t seem like she had much luck with it – she crossed out the last lines to each of the equations and started up again. Artpy?”

            “ _Madame Pomfrey was unsuccessful in determining the amount of magic in Mister Potter’s blood and a point of origin for it. However, when she added her notes I was able to extrapolate a plausible theory about why that is the case._ ” Artpy replied.

            “Which is?” everyone asked at the same time.

            “ _Upon reviewing footage of Mister Potter’s time in the Arena and the readings from his sessions, coupled with the equations which finish in a non-existent limit, it appears that Mister Potter doesn’t have a magical core in the tissue of his heart, and his blood doesn’t carry Omega Waves; but I theorise that his blood doesn’t carry the Waves because every cell in Mister Potter’s body is an active Omega Ray._ ”

            Hannah lost her footing momentarily, while shouting expletives and Draco just went white in the face at that, but the other two looked strangely at one another.

            “Wait…” Harry’s brain started up again. “Wouldn’t that mean…?”

            “That the reason you don’t have a magical core is because _you’re_ an active SPELL?!” Draco clamoured.

            “I’m confused.” Neville announced to the surprise of no one.

            “Are you deaf?” Draco turned slowly towards the boy with a tired look on his face. “The computer just said…”

            “It’s like this, Nev.” Hannah took a deep breath. “An Omega Wave is the presence of magic, neutral one, sort of like ambient magic that’s just there, but an Omega _Ray_ is that magic that you use in a spell, that you’ve put a purpose behind and changed it from its neutral state; it seems that Harry…”

            “Is like a spell that keeps happening.” Draco finished for her.

            “That’s ridiculous.” Neville gave a short laugh. “He’s a _person_ , not a spell!”

            “I think we _know_ he’s a real person, just that his magic is active all at once, everywhere in him.” Draco gave his two knuts.

            “Oh my god…” Harry started pacing. “This means that I don’t have just _one_ core, but that I am made of trillions of tiny little ones that are constantly pouring out magic – I’m not just magical, I’m… I’m _magic_! Magic that keeps blazing out like a spell would! That’s why she couldn’t see if I had a core, she looked at it wrong! Ironically, an active Omega Core means that it’s not doing anything, it’s sending out Waves, which are neutral, ambient energies, but when they turn into Rays, they’re no longer ambient…” Harry trailed off as he reached for the metallic headband and placed it on him. “Artpy, scan for active magic.” he ordered.

            The next second, the screen closed to him displayed an outline of him, but unlike the one Pomfrey showed him last time, this one was lit up _entirely_. Countless little lights blinded them, as Artpy finally put any doubt to rest.

            “Okay… Okay, that’s not weird at all.” Hannah said once Artpy switched the screen back.

            “So you’re actually _comprised_ of magic itself, not just someone with access to it?” Neville asked.

            “I think so, yeah. Would certainly explain all the strange things I can do and the fact that I have limitless potential when it comes to it.” Harry looked bewildered.

            “Question is… How?” Hannah wondered.

            “I think _why_ is more important.” Draco pointed out.

            “ _Mister Potter. The second notification._ ” Artpy reminded him.

            “Right.” Harry shook his head. “We can continue this another time. Go ahead, Artpy.”

            “ _Miss Granger’s phone places her in the library and has not checked her electronic devices for some time._ ”

            Harry’s breath got caught up in his lungs. This was it – the moment he had been waiting for, an opportunity to talk to the girl. He immediately took of the headband and flew towards the door against the shouts of surprise from his friends.

            “I’ll be back shortly!” he yelled over his shoulders. “Artpy, delay her Map app if she checks it, I just need a few minutes.” the boy ordered.

            “ _Right away, Mister Potter._ ”

 

            Several minutes later, and a few near collisions with the students in the halls, Harry found himself in the doorway of the library section. He littered about, fidgeting, thinking about what he could say, _how_ he should say it. Would it be enough, even?

            Deciding it was best to get on with it, Harry stepped inside and searched for the girl using the Map. But for some reason, while her name was on the map, a few feet from him, she wasn’t where she was supposed to in real life, next to a Penelope Clearwater, because the whole place was _deserted_.

            The hairs on the back of Harry’s head stood up immediately. Something was wrong, something was terribly wrong. And then he saw it. His own name on the map wasn’t there.

            “Artpy, where is everyone?” Harry asked carefully.

            “ _Miss Granger’s phone is on the table to your left. The Map –_ ” Artpy’s voice began to sound weird, like she lost connection to a call.

            “Artpy? Artpy!” Harry shouted in his phone.

            “ _… re-establishing connection… Routing through emergency pot 1534. Mister Potter, it appears that the security measures were offline, as was the map for this section of the castle._ ”

            “Then where is Hermione?” Harry trembled. “She’s supposed to be…” he turned his attention towards the table with a heavy looking tome and a bunch of notes, underneath which he found the girl’s phone, cracked and bent in places. “ _Reparo._ ” he wiggled his hands. “That’s why she didn’t check her phone in the last few minutes, it has been destroyed! Artpy, I need you to scour the Map, corner to corner, _find her immediately_.” he ordered, as he started to run out of the library.

            “ _At once, Mister Potter_.” Artpy complied.

            “Call the others, make sure –” Harry said, but stopped short when he ran into someone.

            “Potter!” a stern voice rang in his ears and dark green robes hit him in the face when he turned a corner.

            Professor McGonagall stood in his way, eyes wide and her brow furrowed to no end.

            “Professor, I have to…” Harry started frantically, but the older woman just placed her hands on his shoulders.

            “Harry!” she intoned and her tone was strangled, as if what she was about to say wasn’t easy.

            “No…” Harry came to the immediate realisation. “No, no, she’s _not_ , she can’t be…” he pleaded, desperately, for this to be all a lie, for it to be a prank, some retribution for the way he acted, and that Hermione was just waiting around the corner to surprise him.

            “Come with me.” McGonagall steered him towards the Grand Staircase.

 

            She didn’t have to say anything, and when she tried, it fell on deaf ears. Harry’s mind was ringing a dull sound, covering everything else in a blanket of uncertainty.

            The others were there as well, in the Hospital Wing, standing close to her bed, eyes teary and faces in shock.

            It was too sudden and unthinkable. Harry’s eyes would not believe it, but the truth of the matter was staring right in his face: Hermione had been attacked and was now lying still in the bed. Eyes frozen in terror, mouth slight open and her right hand raised up as if holding something delicately, skin turned grey.

            “Is she…” the boy croaked.

            “Petrified, like the others.” McGonagall moved towards the nightstand, and some part of Harry’s mind relaxed at hearing that she was _alive_ at the very least. “We found her earlier tonight, along with another student in Ravenclaw, who has also suffered the same fate.”

            “Oh, Merlin…” Hannah sobbed with her hand over her mouth. Draco looked paler than a ghost at this point, and Neville was openly crying, silently, caressing Hermione’s unmoving hair.

            “We recovered her belongings, but we didn’t find her phone.” McGonagall continued in the same strained voice. “I will see that you receive them after they have been inspected. I should think Miss Granger would like them back once she recovers.”

            “I found her phone.” Harry teared his gaze away, trying his best to overcome the mix of emotions he was feeling. “It’s how I knew where she was in the first place. Or where she should’ve been…”

            “She was also found holding this.” McGonagall raised up an ornate hand mirror towards them. “Does this mean anything to you?” she asked.

            “I think she tried to watch her back against the monster if it arrived.” Draco managed to say.

            “Indeed. I am truly sorry that this happened, my dears. But she will be restored to full health, that I can guarantee.” the Professor added. “I will give you four some privacy.” she left the mirror back on the nightstand with Hermione’s bag and made a move towards the exit. “Potter?” she whispered when she arrived next to Harry, who didn’t move at all in the last minute. “If there is anything I can do…”

            “Thank you, Professor.” the boy coaxed out. “But unless we find who’s responsible or find a clue where the Chamber is…”

            “Then I suggest you get busy.” McGonagall declared, her posture changing and dragging Harry out of his daze momentarily. “There is someone who can help, but I’m afraid that you must move quickly. I think you know who I am speaking of.”

            Harry found himself looking at McGonagall clearly for the first time in his life. The pure determination in her eyes, the fire in her gaze told the story of a very strong woman that has experienced more pain than she should’ve and was now powerless to stop it from happening to her students. But she was smart enough that she figured there was someone who could.

            “Professor…” Harry had no idea what to say to her in that moment, when she regarded him with something akin to _pleading_ , asking him to do something she would never ask of a normal student. But apparently, she knew who she was talking to.

            “Professors Dumbledore, Snape and Lupin are under the impression that you are rather _exceptional_ as a wizard and have let me on occasion know that situations like this one are something you’re familiar with.” she continued with too much insider knowledge. “I cannot agree to putting a child on the frontline of danger, but I have been assured that you can handle yourself. Now, please, use whatever you have to find some answers and put a stop to all of this. Miss Granger is counting on you.”

            Professor McGonagall then left without another word, leaving behind a bewildered Harry that couldn’t make sense of her.

            But she had been right. He was the one who had to stop this. For her sake.

            “This isn’t right.” Neville cried. “How could they do this to her?” he continued to look at Hermione and caress her head.

            “Someone in big fucking trouble right now.” Harry’s words turned to ice as his posture changed immediately. There would be hell to pay for this – whoever hurt his friend would wish for death the second Harry caught up with them. He turned around on his heels, fist clenched tight and his strides long and powerful.

            “What are you doing?” Hannah sniffed.

            “I’m going for some answers. I’ve had it up to here with all of this!” Harry reached for the door.

            “And where do you think you can get them right now?” Neville stopped him in his tracks. “We’ve been on this for _months_ , how do you figure we can find something now?”

            “Hagrid.” was all that Harry said before going out the door.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. I did now, didn't I? Hermione and Harry fighting, Hermione breaking the Room and tearing it to pieces, Harry nearly isolating himself in the middle of the ocean just to he could escape the hurt he was feeling, silent treatment and now Hermione was attacked. It seems like things aren't going so good for Harry, he keeps missing things by an inch and it's going to take a toll on him at the end.
> 
> Speaking of, we've already entered the endgame stage, this chapter fully marks the beginning of the end of the second book. Already??? I mean, we have five more to cover, but still, in like a few tens of thousands of words I will finish the Chamber of Secrets, and what I consider my best work so far. Let's see how I progress further along. 
> 
> Getting a bit ahead of myself, I see. Please enjoy this chapter, and as always I wait your comments and you can also follow me on Tumblr @friendswithscarheads so we can talk.


	24. The Spider Trail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions rise in the wake of a horrific attack, and while Harry and Draco pursue answers to help save their friend, someone else continues their nefarious plans.

            “Potter, will you _slow_ down?” Draco shouted after him, but the other boy wasn’t going to be deterred. Hermione was lying in a bed in the Hospital Wing because he had been an idiot. Something had to be done.

            “I’m busy, Draco.” Harry didn’t even glance back, walking fast to the Room to get the Invisibility Cloak.

            “You’re being busy giving yourself appendicitis, _will you knock it off_?!” Draco resorted to using his magic to freeze Harry’s legs, finally pausing the boy. “You either jog or you walk normally, you don’t do them both at the same time!” he chided him, finally catching up with his friend.

            “Let. Me. Go.” Harry gritted his teeth and clutched his fingers into fists, nostrils flaring with fury.

            “Not until you tell me what you hope to achieve by going to Hagrid’s at this time!” Draco appeared in his face, concerned expression on his face and flushed cheeks from the effort. “Hermione’s Petrified and you want to go for some tea? That’s not you, you have a plan, now tell me what it is before you get frostbite!” he demanded, and Harry’s toes were getting rather cold.

            Harry sighed and took a deep breath, trying to defuse the bomb of emotions that was his brain before he could explode.

            “I’m going to Hagrid’s to ask him about the time he was expelled and see if he remembers something, anything at all that can pinpoint us to where the Chamber is.” Harry carefully said.

            “You don’t think the authorities have asked him since this whole thing has started up again?” Draco crossed his arms.

            “The _authorities_ are the same ones that accused him fifty years ago and are now clueless on how to stop it.” Harry sneered dismissively. “Besides, they don’t know Hagrid like I do, I know I can get to the bottom of this.” he continued.

            “You’re doing this so that you won’t have to face the fact that our friend is in the hospital, so you’re going after some lead you think will help you get the deductive leap you’ve been missing for so long.” Draco looked unimpressed.

            Harry’s mind boiled, mainly because some part of him knew that fundamentally, Draco was right. But it didn’t matter now, and he wasn’t going to admit it to the boy, not when he knew the smugness he would get. So he used his magic to crack the ice around his feet and walked straight into the blond’s face, making him step back reflexively in fear.

            Whatever he read in Harry’s expression was enough to send him into panic mode, judging by the apparent terror plastered on Draco’s features.

            “Don’t.” Harry warned him once. “I have enough on my plate without you trying to psychoanalyze me.” he gritted, and Draco swallowed before getting some of his nerve back and simply looked Harry in the eye with fierce determination. “Now get out of my way.” he pushed past the blond.

            “You’re such an arsehole sometimes!” Draco shouted after him, and it hurt Harry more than he could ever express to hear again the coldness of the boy’s words thrown at him. Draco didn’t deserve to be treated like that, he was only trying to understand what was going on and calm down a very erratic Harry, and all the raven-haired boy did was push him out of the way, too busy with trying to solve all of this, to get some piece of information, to save Hermione and kill the basilisk once and for all. But then, a second pair of footsteps followed Harry’s, and some of the weight in his heart was lifted, as Draco rejoined him.

            “So are you coming along or not?” Harry asked without daring to look at him, even though he knew he had that fuming expression on, the one where his eyebrows drew together and his lips were pursed into a thin line.

            “Of bloody course I’m coming along with you, you self-righteous, pompous, spoiled brat! What, did you think for one second that a small verbal tiff would get me to back off? Draco launched into a lengthy explanation turned into reciting lists of insults he no doubt prepared instantly in the last few seconds. “My loyalty isn’t easily bought or destroyed, you utter hard-headed son of a Gryffindor!”

            “Low blow, Malfoy.” Harry intoned.

            “It’s the truth!” Draco quipped.

            “Said the son of a Death Eater!” Harry finally shot him a glance of ‘uh, hello – pot, kettle much?’.

            “At least I’m not acting like _my_ father and I’m actively trying to put an end to his nefarious and ridiculously complicated plans!” Draco rebutted. “And another thing, if you so much as try to _shove_ me like that ever again, like I’m some lowly peasant _bothering_ your day instead of your friend trying to lend a hand, I will personally push an ice stalagmite up your scrawny _arse_! Are we clear?” the boy continued to fume as they climbed the Grand Staircase.

            “Duly noted.” Harry spoke in monotone. “Further arseholery means Draco penetrates Harry.”

            “You – _moron_!” the boy slapped him on the shoulder. “That’s not even remotely what I meant, you pervert!”

           

            Their arguing came to an end as they reached the Room and got their things. Harry didn’t feel the need for armour, they were just visiting Hagrid for god’s sake, not venturing who knows where, but they did get their Bluetooth earpieces in case they were called and hid under the Invisibility Cloak.

            “Are you going to fly us down there?” Draco asked after they were all settled in front of the main balcony, with the windows open.

            “Actually, _you_ are.” Harry remarked.

            “I can’t _fly_ , you daft tit!” Draco replied automatically, looking at Harry like he had grown two heads in the last minute.

            “You can control water, can you not?” Harry asked.

            “Yes?” Draco scrunched up his face in confusion.

            “And ice?”

            “Your point, Potter? Get to it while we’re young.”

            “So if you can move ice in the air, suspend it even, who is to say that you can’t suspend an ice platform with _us_ on it, and then direct it to where you want it to?”

            “Are you _mad_? This isn’t the time for driving lessons in three-dimensions!” Draco drawled out, but the sparkle in his eyes said that he was intrigued, and Harry knew he won.

            “This is exactly the time.” Harry ignored the protest. “Come one, you can do it! _Easily_! Or is Draco Malfoy, the sole Water Elemental of our time, _scared_ to try his powers?”

            Jackpot.

            “You _wish_.” Draco intoned, before raising his hands to his level and moving his palms outwards elegantly. A platform of ice appeared beneath their feet, slightly encapsulating half of their soles to steady them.

            “Then lead the way.” Harry commanded, and Draco moved his hands, raising them up in the air. For a moment, they wobbled slightly, but the blond inhaled deeply and concentrated, stabilising them instantly. Then, pushing out his hands, they both flew out into the night air, and as freezing as it was, both on his feet and in his face, Harry could not be more proud of Draco in that moment for achieving such a feat.

 

            The castle was uncannily dark and quiet. Perhaps because in light of the recent double attacks everyone just retreated to their dormitories, or there was an imposed curfew that Harry missed. He thought of Neville and Hannah, alone with Hermione in that dreary bed on the fourth floor, and a pang of guilt about not including them shot right through him. But it was too late to turn back now, time was of the essence.

            Draco guided them carefully towards Hagrid’s hut, which had the light on and a steady smoke coming from the chimney, thankfully signalling that the half-giant was home and not out in the Forbidden Forrest like Harry feared. The blond set them down, a bit harder than he intended maybe, but they got there in one piece, and that was all that mattered.

            “I like your ice powers more than you water powers sometimes.” Harry said in lieu of congratulations.

            “You’re just saying that to get on my good side.” Draco huffed, checking the map on the phone for anyone around, then dismissed the platform into a puddle at their feet. “Artpy, alert us immediately if anyone is approaching Hagrid’s hut.” he ordered the phone.

            “ _Certainly, Mister Malfoy_.” came the robotic voice.

            “Is it working? The flattery, I mean?” Harry asked nonchalantly as he took of the cloak.

            “Keep going, you’re almost there.” Draco said airily and knocked on the door.

             There were muffled sounds coming from behind the door, and for the first time, Fang didn’t bark happily, but instead a low growl was heard. Harry and Draco exchanged looks of worry between them. Since when did the cowardly dog did anything but whine at the sign of the unknown?

            The door swung open, revealing Hagrid, dressed in his thick coat, a determined frown on his face. He was holding what seemed to be his huge crossbow, only it was _armed_ with a bolt, looked angry and ready to fire, and it was pointing at the two boys on his doorstep.

            “Whoa, don’t shoot, it’s only us, Hagrid!” Harry raised his arms defensively.

            Hagrid blinked several times, not understanding what was going on.

            “Harry? Draco? What are yeh doing here at this hour?”

            “Coming to see you, what does it look like?” Draco rolled his eyes, hands still up. “Could you _lower_ the deadly weapon directed at us? Like _now_?” he pointed at the crossbow.

            “Right, sorry!” Hagrid shook his head and un-cocked the bolt and placed it in its usual spot by the door. “Now come in before someone sees yeh!” he urged them.

            Draco and Harry entered the small hut, now more distraught than ever. Hagrid was certainly capable of defending himself when it came to it, even if most of the time it was the unavoidable intimidation factor; one only need to take a look at the man to calculate the exact odds one had when faced with a 3.5 metres by 400 kilograms mountain. Add in the crossbow factor, which the gamekeeper had obvious talent at, given the last few decades of his profession, and the result was a very scary Hagrid. But for whom was it intended?  
            “Alright, so what in blazes are you preparing yourself for?” Harry asked once they were seated at the table and Hagrid poured tea with trembling hands.

            “Nothin’, just… Nothin’.” Hagrid denied.

            “Yeah, you don’t get to point an arrow…” Draco started.

            “Cross-bolt.” Harry corrected him automatically.

            “Cross-bolt at us and then just say nothing.” Draco continued.

            “Look, it’s bad enough yeh two decided to come out here after what happened…” Hagrid boomed.

            “We’re here _because_ of what happened!” Harry spoke over the man. “Hermione is Petrified and we need your help to fix that.”

            “I don’t know if I can, Harry.” Hagrid sighed and sat down with a thud in his chair, shocking the saucers with teacups. “I don’t know much abou’ cures and remedies for somethin’ like that. I’m sorry, I know she’s yer friend and I miss her too…”

            “That’s not what I meant.” Harry looked elsewhere at the mention of Hermione. “I’m not after the Restorative Draught, that will come when it’s time. I’m asking for any information that you might have on the Chamber of Secrets.” he finally revealed, now looking Hagrid in the eye.

            The man’s face lost all colour in an instant, and Fang whimpered beneath the table.

            “Yeh don’t think _I’ve_ done it…” Hagrid looked ready to cry, and Harry didn’t know how to react to that one. Thankfully, someone else did.

            “No, no… Hagrid! No!” Draco put his hand on the giant’s elbow, soothing him. “We _know_ it wasn’t you who opened the Chamber of Secrets, that was Tom Riddle.”

            “That… That _blasted_ little…” Hagrid crossed into angry territory fast after realising what had transpired. “I always thought the lad was trying teh find a guilty party, but he… he…” Hagrid couldn’t form the right words to express his level of distaste for the treachery.

            “He framed you.” Harry spoke a bit more surely. “He pointed it all to you to save his own skin and to stop Hogwarts from closing, after he realised that his actions have consequences.” he continued with an irked tone.

            “And he got away with it all, and I got expelled and my wand snapped!” Hagrid slammed a fist on the table. “I should’ve know, I should’ve know he was up to somethin’, it was too _convenient_!”

            “He didn’t get away with it, in the end.” Harry said. “I took him down sometime later. Gave me this, though.” he pointed at the scar on his forehead.

            Hagrid’s mind process was quite clear on his face, from the way his features shifted when trying to put the two and two together, until finally, it dawned on him, the sheer brutality of the naked truth just laid out in front of him to witness.

            “You-Know-Who?” Hagrid’s eyebrows shot up in his hair, mouth agape. “Tom Riddle is _You-Know-Who_?”

            “How come almost everyone who knew Riddle during school didn’t realise that he became the Dark Lord? I mean, Riddle disappears and Voldemort comes prancing around? Did _nobody_ but a select few make the connection?” Draco snorted as he drank his tea.

            “Those were troubling times, back then before You-Know-Who started out publicly, people were disappearing left and right, most just figured Riddle was one of them.” Hagrid still tried to process it. “And Riddle is a _half-blood_ , no one could’ve believed that _he_ was the champion of the blood purist agenda!”

            It was at that moment that Draco’s eyes went wide and chocked on his tea, spraying it on the table, before coughing like a maniac. Harry lazily cleaned the disaster with a wave of his fingers and Hagrid tried to pat lightly on the blond’s back.

            “I’m sorry… _WHAT_?!” Draco couldn’t believe his ears.

            “Yeah, his father was a Muggle and his mum a witch. Didn’t like to talk about it very much from what I heard.” Hagrid mentioned.

            “Well, he most certainly _wouldn’t_!” Draco looked completely outraged. “That lying snake, posing as this agent of blood purity, when in fact…”

            “We can stand here all night and curse out Voldemort for being a liar and many other things.” Harry intervened before Draco froze the lake in his state or something. “Hagrid, do you remember anything that could tell us where to find the Chamber?” he pleaded. “Anything at all?”

            “I don’t know what teh tell yeh, Harry.” Hagrid scratched the back of his head. “There wasn’t much of an investigation after I was accused, but maybe…”

            A loud alarm clock sound on both Harry’s and Draco’s phones interrupted the giant man. It was Artpy, wordlessly signalling that someone was approaching the hut.

            “Crap, someone’s coming. It’s Dumbledore and… _oh no_.” Draco gasped, zooming out on the map. “Harry, we have to hide, _now_!” he stood up, as did the other boy, who took out his father’s cloak.

            “Quick, into that corner!” Hagrid whispered, shoving them rapidly into the opposite direction of the hut, just seconds before there was a knock on the door.

            Harry quickly covered the both of them under the Invisibility Cloak and waited with bated breath. Dumbledore was one thing, the old wizard was no stranger to Harry’s night time wanderings about, but whatever Draco saw on the map before the other boy had the chance to check was bound to be bad for them if they were discovered.

           

            “Evening, Hagrid.” Dumbledore greeted the man and stepped inside casually after Hagrid gestured them inside.

            “Professor Dumbledore, sir. Minister Fudge.” Hagrid spoke gravely.

            “Good evening, Hagrid.” a second man entered. He was in his late fifties, grey hair elegantly seated on his head via gel, expensive dark green robes that were in fashion thirty years ago and he held in his hands a bowler hat that matched the colour scheme on him. He had the air of a man who held himself in high esteem, but his posture suggested otherwise, judging by his nervous twirling of the hat in his fingers.

            “Is that the Minister for Magic?” Harry asked in a whisper, but Draco quieted him immediately, pleading with his eyes for something Harry didn’t understand.

            “Bad business, very bad business indeed, Hagrid.” Fudge said in a concerned voice. “ _Three_ attacks on Muggleborns, the Board is in disarray, my office is receiving calls and owls daily from concerned parents, _something_ must be done.”

            And this is where Harry saw the man plainly for what he was: a politician, one that was well versed in the game by the way he spoke, like he was giving a speech. The line _something must be done_ was one he had heard many times when Uncle Vernon watched the news on whatever candidate ran for some position. And Harry learned from him to trust politicians as far as he trusted a stray animal. Fudge being here, the _Minister_ , for crying out loud, was bad news indeed, and the boy got the sudden feeling that it was bound to get worse immediately.

            “Well yeh don’t think _I’ve_ done it, now do yeh? Professor, tell him!” Hagrid gestured with his hand.

            “I want it known, Cornelius, that Hagrid here has my absolute trust and confidence.” Dumbledore spoke clearly, and Harry felt a bit of pride for the Headmaster. “I have no doubt in my mind that he is no more responsible for the attacks than I am.”

            “Hagrid’s record is unfortunately against him in this matter, Dumbledore.” Fudge replied, shaking his head. “The public outcry for a solution is too much.”

            “There is no law which dictates that we, as leaders, must fall to the opinion of the masses without thinking our actions through, _Cornelius_.” Dumbledore looked at the Minister over his glasses. “I would have thought that an institution like ours would conduct itself in a more reasonable manner.”

            “You know as well as I do that the public opinion is all that matters in the end, that they decide what’s right and what’s not.” Fudge rebutted, not meeting Dumbledore’s evenly gaze, and Harry had never heard a more disgusting excuse for someone to keep their rating polls up. “I’m afraid I have no choice in the matter; I must take Hagrid with me.”

            “Take me?” Hagrid gruffed. “Take me where? Not Azkaban prison!”

            Someone must’ve sent Harry into an alternate timeline or something, because surely there was no way they were sending Hagrid to prison for a crime he did not commit? _Again_. He wanted to shout, he wanted to tell Dumbledore to kick this sorry excuse for a man out of Hagrid’s hut. Who did he think he was, coming up here, _knowingly_ taking an innocent man just so that it _looked_ like the government was doing its job instead of actually _doing_ it? He was nearly ready to reveal himself, to hell with the consequences, but then the door opened a second time.

            “Already here, Fudge? Good.”

            The sound of a charming yet cold voice, that was all too familiar, froze him up before he could protest the absolute injustice of it all. Draco looked like he wanted to disappear beyond being invisible in this situation, pushing up against Harry and the wall behind them, trying to make them smaller, unnoticeable.

            Lucius Malfoy entered, exactly as Harry remembered him, all pomp and screaming of money, cane in hand, only this time his hair was neatly arranged in a pony-tail, tied at the base of his skull with a green bow.

            “What are yeh doing here? Get out of my house!” Hagrid never sounded so irked before.

            “Believe me, I take absolutely no pleasure being inside your…” Lucius raised his nose up in the air and walked around with a disgusted look on his face. “You call this house?” he sneered.

            Harry wanted to punch the living lights out of him in that moment.

            “No, I simply reached out to the school and they told me the Headmaster was here.” Lucius turned around and faced the other three.

            “And what exactly is it that you want with me?” Dumbledore asked politely.

            “The other governors and I decided it was time for you to _step aside_.” Lucius spared no time dropping the absolute horrific bomb on them.

            Harry’s blood ran cold. This was it. This was Lucius’s plan all along, coming to fruition. His schemes to overthrow Dumbledore and purge the school of Muggleborns was playing out right in front of them, and Harry was powerless to stop it, had been for a while now. If he had just found the Chamber earlier, if the Universe didn’t apparently hate him and just sent him a sign, something, anything to prevent this from happening, find the Chamber and put a stop to this once and for all…

            But it was too late. The unthinkable had happened. Lucius Malfoy won.

            “This is an official order of suspension.” Lucius walked over to the shocked faces of Hagrid and Fudge, and the eternally serene one of Dumbledore, producing a scroll bound by a wax sigil. The Minister made a move to take it, but the Headmaster took it without a word before he could do it. “You’ll find all twelve signatures inside.” Lucius drawled out.

            Dumbledore didn’t even look at the scroll, just waited for this to play out. Draco clasped Harry by the arm, and the boy could sense his distraught at what he was seeing, guilt over having a father so hateful and maleficent. Harry wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, but it would have to wait.

            “I’m afraid we feel that you’ve rather… lost your touch.” Lucius added. “And what with these attacks,” he walked around for a second time, but this time it was to hide his face from showing his smile, “there would be no Muggleborns left to study at Hogwarts. And I can only _imagine_ what an _awful_ loss that would be for the school.”

            “You can’t take Professor Dumbledore away.” Hagrid breathed. “Take him away, and the Muggleborns don’t stand a chance! Mark my words, they’ll be killings happening next!” Hagrid boomed.

            “You think so?” Lucius faced him with a raised eyebrow.

            “Calm yourself, Hagrid.” Dumbledore said evenly, and it was a good thing, because the giant looked ready to turn Lucius into a stain on the floor. “If the Board wishes for my removal, then of course I will step aside.” he continued. “However,” Dumbledore walked towards Lucius and the spot where Draco and Harry were hidden, “you will find that help will be always given at Hogwarts… to those who ask for it.” he turned his gaze towards the two invisible boys _directly_ , and Lucius peered over his shoulder in confusion, before turning back to face the former Headmaster.

            “Admirable sentiment.” he mocked. “Shall we?” he gestured towards the door, and went towards it. “Fudge.” Malfoy senior bid his goodbye to the Minster and left the hut, but not before Dumbledore casted a knowing look at Harry and Draco, before leaving as well.

            “Come along, Hagrid.” Fudge swallowed and said gravely.

            “Well…” Hagrid dressed his voice, trying to remain steady. “If, uh… If anybody was looking fer some stuff… Then all they’d have teh do was teh follow teh spiders.” he said awkwardly and it took Harry a couple of seconds to understand that he was talking to _them_. “Yep. That’s all I’d have teh say abou’ that. Oh, and someone will need teh feed Fang while I’m gone.” Hagrid sighed and left, as the Minister looked at him strangely, casted a glance at the hound and went out, closing the door.

 

            Harry waited for a few seconds, checking the map to see that they were in the clear, before he pulled the Invisibility Cloak off of them.

            “I am going to _murder_ your father.” Harry gritted, going to sit down in the chair, hands on his face, tired from being so tense these last few minutes.

            “Not if I get to him first.” Draco grumbled and sat next to him. “This is _exactly_ what he wanted to begin with! We should’ve focused more on trapping him instead of waiting for this to play out, I should’ve done more!”

            “There are a lot more things I could’ve done to prevent this than you, Draco.” Harry sighed in his hands. “Hagrid’s right, with Dumbledore gone, there’ll be an attack _a day_!” he whined.

            “And they just took him.” Draco huffed in annoyance. “They took Hagrid because Fudge doesn’t want to seem weak or lose his position and he had to be _seen_ doing something! I know these people, I know how they operate, Fudge is just doing this for his own good. I’m betting they’re not even arresting him properly, just technically putting him in protective custody, so that they can hold him _there_ for as long as they want!”

            “And they’re taking him to _Azkaban_?” Harry let his hands fall. “Strange place to put someone in protective custody.”

            “It’s our only wizarding prison.” Draco’s tone shifted. “It’s on an island in the north, a huge fortress on top of it. But you’re right, Hagrid nowhere _near_ deserves to be there.” he said. “The Dementors, the guards there, are some of the most Dark creatures in the world, able to take away your happy memories, until you’re nothing more than a husk of your darkest moments and you go insane.”

            “That’s just… _awful_!” Harry felt like he was going to vomit.

            “It’s worse.” Draco looked completely abhorred. “I’ve been there _once_ , when I was young, I was with my mother, who wanted to visit her sister and to show her that she had a _nephew_. It was a short visit, mind you, Bellatrix was unstable for a while, but in that place she was absolutely _twisted_. I didn’t feel the full effects of the Dementors, visitors have that luxury, but I still remember that dreadful feeling. Pfft, whatever was mother _thinking_ , dragging me into that hellish place?” he shuddered.

            “We have to get him out of there.” Harry decided. “This is absolutely insane, we can’t just let them…”

            “We don’t have a choice, and we don’t have any proof.” Draco reminded him. “What did he say? Follow the spiders?”

            Harry’s eye caught movement up on the windowsill and turned his gaze towards it. Like some sort of miracle, there was an actual line of spiders climbing out of the hut and through a small hole in the glass.

            “Look.” Harry gestured towards it. “Spiders flee the basilisk, as it’s their mortal enemy!” he remembered. “That’s it!” he ran outside, searching for where the spiders were heading out.

            “Uh, hello?” Draco came after him. “Are you suggesting we go out in the Forbidden Forest all by ourselves? What the about the others?”

            “How long before we get them here, explain everything and then go in search of whatever Hagrid wants us to find before we get caught?” Harry urged him.

            “Okay, point taken. Lead the way.” Draco had to agree.

 

            And so they set out in the dark forest, doing their best to follow the dozens of tiny little spiders that scurried about in the same direction, careful not to step on any of them. Using _Lumos_ helped, once they were clear of the view of the castle and the trees grew closer to one another, and the foliage denser. Harry was worried that even with the lights in their hands they would lose the spiders, but further in they found bigger ones, the size of a palm, directing them in the right place.

            “Have I mentioned I am not very fond of spiders?” Draco uttered, trying not to trip on the various rocks and roots scattered about.

            “I don’t particularly enjoy watching that many limbs crawling off as well.” Harry winced, keeping a close eye on their friends.

            “No, I mean, I really don’t like them.” Draco reiterated.

            “Draco…” Harry stopped in his tracks and faced his friend, who looked like he very much wanted to be anywhere else right now. “Are you… _afraid_ of spiders?”

            “I have no problem when they’re dead, I mean, we use them in potions and whatnot, but when they’re alive and they can sneak up on you and…” Draco finally looked terrified.

            “Okay, okay, it’s all right, calm down.” Harry tried to comfort him. “Arachnophobia is a pretty common and sensible thing, no one’s blaming you.”

            “If Abbott gets wind of this, I won’t hear the end of it.” Draco looked upwards and sighed.

            “It would certainly be a welcome comeback, after you used her fear of snakes against her.” Harry deadpanned.

            “Not funny.” Draco smacked his lips. “And she got over that pretty quickly when we found out about the basilisk and she had to train against a giant snake in the Arena.”

            “Well, you’ll have to get over yours.” Harry pressed on.

            It had been a good hour of walking around, thankfully uninterrupted by any other living creature in the Forbidden Forest. They reached the hollowed trunk of an old fallen tree, filled with cobwebs and with thousands of large spiders scurrying inside.

            “Yeah, no, that’s where I draw the line, Potter!” Draco whimpered.

            “Will you quit it?” Harry took him by the arm and ventured inside, trying not to touch anything that moved, but the spiders seemed to go just fine around them.

            “I really don’t like this at all.” Draco shuddered and tried to focus on Harry, rather than where they were headed.

            At the end of the tunnel there was a large area consisting of nothing but fallen trees and huge roots, ten times the size of the Great Hall. The trees that delimitated it were so tall and big that nothing could enter this place. The only light that was here was from the moonlight, reflected in the countless webs draped almost everywhere in sight. The air seemed thicker here, and the sounds of millions of little legs made Harry shudder as he walked down what seemed like a worn path towards the centre.

            There was a sort of nest in there, obscured by the many fallen trees and gathered up dirt, but it was where they were supposed to arrive, Harry knew it with every fibre of his being.

            As soon as they approached it, a rustling sound was heard coming from the nest.

            “Who is it?” spoke a raspy and echoing voice.

            “Don’t. Panic.” Harry whispered to Draco, who looked whiter than usual.

            “Hagrid? Is that you?” the voice asked, a bit more louder this time, as the rustling got louder.

            “We’re friends of Hagrid!” Harry shouted, as it finally came into view.

            A spider, the size of the Dursley’s entire house, raised itself from the ground, with thundering booms every time it stepped with one of its eight legs, wet and scrunchy sounds at it moved. Hundreds of eyes were on the two boys, as the large and hairy acromantula gazed upon them with curiosity.

            “And you… You’re Aragog, aren’t you?” Harry breathed in realisation. Of course the giant spider Hagrid had fifty years ago would grow to monstrous proportions.

            “Yes.” Aragog replied. “Hagrid has never sent men to our hollow before.”

            “He’s in trouble.” Harry explained. “Up at the school, there have been attacks. They think Hagrid opened the Chamber again, just like before.”

            “That’s a lie!” Aragog rebutted, suddenly angry for his friend. “Hagrid never opened the Chamber of Secrets.”

            “Yes, we know he didn’t do it, and that you’re not the monster.” Harry agreed, trying not to irk the acromantula further.

            “Yes, the monster was born in the castle. I came to Hagrid from a distant land, in the pocket of a traveller, a fellow named Newt.” Aragog responded.

            “Newt… _Scamander_?” Harry did a double take. “The author?”

            “The Magizoologist carried me from the deserts of Syria and then gave me to Hagrid when he was a first-year.” Aragog recounted with… _melancholy_? “It was then I knew I had my first friend.”

            “Harry…” Draco whispered, but the boy ignored him.

            “But they didn’t even give Hagrid the chance to explain where he had you, or even ask Mister Scamander.” Harry fumed. “I’m so sorry that you were separated from him.”

            “After I was accused and he was as well, I ventured in this place. He found me, years later, and brought me my wife, Mosag, so that I won’t be alone. Hagrid is truly one of the most empathetic humans I have encountered. I could not have my family without him. If I can do anything to help him in return, I will.” Aragog told him.

            “I’m glad.” Harry said honestly. “But do know where the Chamber is?”

            “I never saw any part of the castle, except the box in which Hagrid kept me.” Aragog revealed.

            It had been futile, it seemed. Hagrid sent them all this way for nothing. Harry felt dejected at this, but Draco kept pestering him, so instead he got ticked off.

            “Harry!” Draco whimpered.

            “ _What_?” Harry finally turned to see the other boy pointing up and the thousands of giant spiders, all swinging down, as a giant web that wasn’t there before suddenly appeared, closing their way out. It was then that the boy finally got a sense of dread. They were trapped, along with numerous dangerous creatures that threatened to eat them alive.

            “Uh… Thank you so much for your time, Aragog. We’ll be going now.” Harry managed to say, taking Draco and making a few tentative steps backwards.

            “Go?” Aragog intoned. “I think not.”

            And it was obviously a dangerous monster that they were dealing with. As lovable as Hagrid was, he had the unfortunate luck to befriend things normal-sized people couldn’t deal with easily.

            More acromantulas swung down, appeared from the ground, the dead trees, the very dark itself, multiplying into a disgusting force of awful clicks and chitters that encapsulated them. There was no escape, and with so many of them, Harry feared that not even he was capable of fending them off.

            “You said you’d help Hagrid! How is _this_ going to help him if you kill us?” Harry echoed his voice.

            “I will leave what remains of you for the other humans to see, so that they know I am not the monster in the castle, and Hagrid shall be set free…” Aragog rasped.

            “You backstabbing, oversized _insect_!” Harry spat.

            “My sons and daughters do not harm Hagrid at my command…” Aragog continued, as Harry and Draco stood back-to-back, trying to come up with a solution to their latest predicament. “But I cannot deny them fresh meat when it so willingly arrives. Goodbye, friends of Hagrid.”

            _Crap_ , Harry thought.

            “Know of any spells for repelling spiders?” Draco trembled as the spiders got closer.

            “ _Spells_?” Harry shrieked. “Are you an Elemental or not?”

            “I can’t create enough ice or water out of thin air for _all_ of them!” Draco retorted.

            “Oh, for fuck’s sake… Follow my lead!” Harry shouted and pushed them all back with a shield, sending multiple arachnids flying. “ _Arania Exumai_!” he shot out balls of light towards the closest of them, floating in the air.

            “A little help!” Draco yelled, trying his best to push them back with his splashes of water. But they seemed to be weaker, either due to the fact that Draco was right and not being around a source of water or enough moisture was in his detriment, or perhaps his phobia prevented him from thinking clearly. Or maybe it was a little bit of both.

            Whatever the case, he was in trouble.

            “ _Aguamenti_!” Harry released constant jets of water from his fingers, flying around and dousing it everywhere, drenching the whole hollow.

            Draco seemed to get the memo, because in the next second, he shifted into the powerful wizard he was supposed to be, and gracefully moved in time with the water to the disadvantage of their opponents. They were no match for a fully powered Draco and Harry.

            “Wait, _that_ ’ _s_ a thing?!” Draco sounded incredulous, jumping around and creating more water to use. It seemed that having his ability rejuvenated instilled back some of the boy’s courage and spitfire.

            “You’re the Element of water personified, Draco, the hell?!” Harry groaned, dodging spiders that launched at him, twirling in the air and sending them back with pushes of his power. He didn’t want to use his energy bolt, it could cause too much damage and rip apart their surroundings. “You never knew that there was a _spell_ to create water?” he gathered multiple spiders into a sphere and launched them at a group coming next to the other boy, who was too busy pushing back another.

            “I’ve been a bit preoccupied lately, what with the giant ancient snake in the castle and our cyber-stalker watching our every move!” Draco created a giant ice pole that he used to swat at the jumping spiders in time with moving the water around to push back the ever-coming waves of acromantulas. “So forgive me if I haven’t had time to fully engross myself into spell-work!”

            “Should’ve brought Neville along!” Harry yelled, flying higher to dodge the small mould of spiders on top of one another that threatened to eat his toes, before crushing them from the top down with a force push.

            “Oh, yeah, bring the _Fire Elemental_ into the forest, what could possibly go wrong with that?” Draco drawled out, creating throwing icicles to throw.

            “Watch out!” Harry saw out of the corner of his eye a couple of spiders on the trees next to Draco shoot out webs.

            But it was in vain. The spiderwebs caught Draco by surprise, binding his feet and tripping him on his face. He fell, _hard_ , dropping his ice staff and then another pair of spiders did the same for his hands. Harry killed the spiders, but it seemed like the rest were catching on quickly, and shot numerous webs at Draco, who struggled to get free, screaming for dear life, and Harry couldn’t stop all of them.

            His feet got caught in the webs, dragging him down to the hundreds of spiders below him, as hundreds of others descended upon a helpless Draco, suffocating him with their silk.

            “Harry –” Draco gurgled.

            “NO!” Harry roared, the sounds of a beast awakened. He wasn’t going to see another of his friends fall, not while he was still alive.

            Power fell out of him in a wave of destruction, sending every spider in the hollow flying into opposite directions, like if someone pushed rain with an invisible, expanding globe. Dead bark and dirt were ravaged in the wake of the explosion of force power, destroying almost everything in its path.

            Draco was thrown in the air, thankfully only for a brief moment, before the web caught him in a nearby root and didn’t hurt him. Harry freed himself and dove through the air to his friend, trying to rip out the strong bindings.

            He was completely covered in the stuff, and gasped for air as Harry ripped out the webbing on his face.

            “It is useless to struggle.” Aragog spoke to them, almost tauntingly. “My children are legion, they are endless, while you are only two.”

            They were coming back. The spiders who survived and those that were still arriving from every part in the forest, and from deep underground where the main nest was, they were still coming to kill them.

            Harry decided enough was enough.

            He fully faced Aragog and shot out his hand, using his power to capture the giant spider before it could attack as well. He caught it in the air, grasping it with an invisible hand.

            “Call them off.” Harry ordered as Draco got free.

            The spiders were still coming, Aragog was grunting, furiously moving his legs in the air for a release. He didn’t get the message. Harry was not messing around.

            “I said _CALL THEM OFF_!” Harry roared and fractured one of the acromantula’s legs with a twist of his hand, making it scream in a high pitched, blood curling sound, that stopped the other spiders from advancing on their position.

            “Please…” Aragog tried to plead, but it was too little too late.

            Harry broke another leg, pushing it into an unnatural position, just like the other, as the creature screamed pitifully.

            “I can do this all night long, Aragog!” Harry warned.

            “Harry!” Draco tried to get his attention, shaking him by the other arm, but it was like the other boy was made of stone.

            “I’m not sure how your other legs will fare! I have crushed _bones_ before, what do you think your exoskeleton will look like when I am through with you?” Harry roared, using his hand to slowly squish Aragog from the outside in.

            “Mercy…” Aragog groaned.

            “Harry, that’s enough!” Draco tried, but it fell on deaf ears.

            “Call. Them. Off!” Harry increased the pressure.

            “Flee… My children…” Aragog barely managed, and thankfully they listened as scurried off in mere seconds.

            Harry stopped crushing Aragog, but he wasn’t done yet. Not by a long shot. There was a lot of anger to be let out, especially after the day he was having. He pushed it to the ground, holding it there for a second, before throwing him across the area, flying upwards and then throwing him again in the opposite direction with a grunt. Finally, he made the spider float to him, gripping him tight.

            “Tell me everything you know about the basilisk. _Now_!” Harry ordered.

            “We do not speak of it! It is our mortal enemy, our most… AGH!” Aragog shrieked as the boy increased the pressure for a second.

            “Right now, you should be more concerned with the enemy in front of you, not the ancient serpent kilometres away!” Harry spat.

            “It is a fearsome creature, its skin almost impenetrable, its stare can kill in a second, and its venom has only one cure – phoenix tears… Please!” Aragog begged.

            “What else?” Harry said, but the spider would not say more. “WHAT ELSE!”

            “The girl!” Aragog shouted in pain. “The girl that was killed last time, she was found in a bathroom! That is all I know, I swear!”

            Harry threw the spider back in its hole and held it there, landing next to Draco, who had a fearful look on him.

            “If I ever see you again…” Harry warned him with a dark tone in his voice, finally releasing the acromantula from his grip, which slumped to the ground and tried to stand up on its still functional six legs. “If I hear that you or one of your children harmed a student of Hogwarts or anyone else, friend of Hagrid or not, I will come down here and I will _burn_ your children and force you to watch, before I crush you from the inside out.” he delivered his threat, and turned around and whipped his hand towards the web above that kept them trapped. Now, with the rest of the spiders gone, there was no one to maintain it. “ _Diffindo_.” he intoned and watched as it was cut by an invisible blade and snapped free.

            “Let’s go.” Draco said uncomfortably.

            “The centaurs spoke of you…” Aragog said behind them in a weak voice.

            “What.” Harry turned around slowly, ready to punish the spider further for trying to kill them earlier. But it was so weak after their fight that it barely manged to stay upright on trembling limbs.

            “A boy in the castle… With power not seen in ages, whose coming was foretold in the stars, and who will bring great change to our world.” Aragog spoke between breaths. “Be careful, Harry Potter, as even the most valiant hearts can be corrupted.” Aragog warned him.

            Harry flared his nostrils and made a fist, dragging it down, making a third leg of the acromantula’s break and sending it down the hole it crawled out of screaming.

            “You’ll find I’m much nicer when you don’t try to kill my best friend.” Harry talked to the air. And really, who was Aragog to reprimand him for hurting him when the creature tried to have him _killed_?

 

            Harry grabbed Draco and held on to him tightly, as he flew them out of the Forbidden Forest and towards the castle at high speed, effectively over the bullshit that they had to go through. He landed them safely at Hagrid’s hut just a few minutes later, after which Draco let go of him and proceeded to slap Harry on his arm.

            “What the bloody fuck was that all about back there?” Draco demanded to know.

            “Don’t start with me, Malfoy.” Harry sighed tiredly and tried to go back to the castle on foot, too exhausted after their fight earlier.

            “ _Don’t start_? Don’t start?! That was _torture_ what you did to that giant spider!” Draco followed him, managing to walk backwards faster to face Harry, who refused to meet his eye.

            “The thing tried to kill us! You’re welcome, by the fucking way!” Harry retorted.

            “That doesn’t excuse your behaviour! There’s a point where fighting someone stops being self-defence and starts being attacking _viciously_!” Draco stopped him forcefully.

            “So what, I gave him a taste of his own medicine!” Harry argued. “You don’t dish out what you can’t take! And it more than deserved it, after it set its children to _eat us_!”

            They were now in a proper shouting match, it was a miracle that no one was coming to see what the ruckus was all about. But they were far enough from the castle for them not to be disturbed. Harry knew what Draco was saying, understood it completely, but for some reason, either from adrenaline or something else entirely, he couldn’t stop, kept shouting angrily.

            “How can you stand there and justify breaking someone’s legs and hurting them after they surrendered?” Draco yelled back.

            “We needed information and that _thing_ needed to pay for what it tried to do to me, to _you_!”

            “That _thing_?” Draco repeated in the same tone. “Do you even listen to yourself right now? Or do I need Artpy to replay to you what you’re saying?”

            “It’s not a person Draco, and for the last fucking time, _it tried to kill us_!”

            “You’re not getting it! I don’t have a problem with the fact that you responded with force, what I have a problem with is your _attitude_ about it! It may not be a person, but it is sentient, and it _begged_ you, Harry, pleaded for you to stop after you destroyed its home and proved that you were stronger that it was!” Draco groaned and looked ready to tear his hair out. “It was ready to tell you everything it needed right then and there, but you decided to continue enacting pain on it to feel good! Do you know who _else_ does that? Huh!? Ring any bells inside that big head of yours?”

            “Watch it, Malfoy!” Harry spat.

            “Or what? You’ll break _my_ legs too if I don’t comply? You’re acting _exactly_ like Voldemort does, torturing for information, hurting others because you’re hurting!”

            “Well maybe taking a page from the bad guy’s book isn’t such a bad idea after all!” Harry said angrily.

            “You did not just say that.” Draco gasped.

            “No, maybe I’m tired of always being on the defensive and just _reacting_ to what happens instead of eliminating the threat as it comes!” Harry continued on this idea.

            “And that’s okay, so long as you remember that _you’re_ supposed to be one of the good guys and not resort to using your power to cause pain _because you feel like it_! That’s why I chose you, because you’re the good guy, you’re the one fighting against people like my father and Voldemort!” Draco reminded him.

            “What if I’m sick of being the good guy, huh?” Harry threw his hands up. “What if I’m tired of fighting against the impossible and losing?!”

            “We didn’t lose last year with Quirrell and we haven’t lost yet!” Draco tried to reason with him.

            “Didn’t we?” Harry asked sarcastically. “Look at what happened tonight! Your father managed to throw out Albus Dumbledore out of the school in one short discussion! He manipulated everything that has happened this year and we have been _powerless_ to stop him! All this training, all this research, and for _what_?! So that we can hide in the corner and watch as the bad guys win!”

            “Are you that _dense_?” Draco looked aghast. “It’s not over yet, the basilisk is still out there, and when we find it and kill it, and stop the helper, we can get Hagrid and Dumbledore back and put a stop to Father’s plan for good! But we can’t do it if we lose sense of who we are along the way!” he was breathing like he was running a marathon. “What if Neville and Hannah could see you now? What would they say about what you did? Those two see you as this centre of morality and have become better people _through_ you! We all did! You don’t get to just toss away who you are because it’s suddenly hard to do the right thing! What would Hermione say if she saw you now?”

 

            Bad move. Harry saw red and all of his feelings came out.

            “WELL I CAN’T VERY WELL ASK HER OPINION, BECAUSE SHE’S STUCK IN THE HOSPITAL WING AFTER BEING PETRIFIED BECAUSE I WAS STUPID ENOUGH TO KEEP THE DIARY A SECRET AND SHE RAN OFF AND ISOLATED HERSELF FROM ME BECAUSE SHE WAS ANGRY ABOUT WHAT I DID!” Harry roared.

 

            And there it was. The reason for all of his anger tonight, the motive for his aberrant behaviour earlier. The guilt and shame ate him up inside, like millions of termites chipping away at his heart and soul, the heaviness of it leaving him empty and cold. He wanted to hurt, someone, anyone or anything, to make someone responsible for the horror that had been enacted on his friend, and because he couldn’t find those directly responsible, so he had taken it out at the first opportunity, which just happened to be Aragog.

            Draco was absolutely right. He was shouting at his friend because he didn’t want to deal with the fact that he was in pain.

            “She was angry with me for not telling you guys about it and then she ran off on her own, spending her time at the library for weeks!” Harry choked up, tears falling freely from his eyes. “And I had that blasted thing for a _month_ and a half, I could’ve gone to Dumbledore in all that time and showed him the diary, and I chose to do it too late, and now he’s gone and Hagrid’s in prison, and Hermione’s Petrified, and it’s all completely my fault! It could’ve stopped it all, Dumbledore could’ve used it to find the Chamber and put an end to all of the attacks, I could’ve saved Hermione and Penelope Clearwater and I _chose_ not to, because I wanted to protect you from Voldemort, and because I was selfish and egotistical and I thought only I can and have to deal with him, and n-now s-she’s fro-frozen, and I-I am the o-only one responsible and it h-hurts so bad, and I m-miss her s-so m-much and s-she is never going to f-forgive me…” Harry couldn’t breathe.

            Draco jumped him, hugging him, holding the boy tight against him, as the green-eyed boy cried his heart out, the loss being felt by both of them as it finally dawned on Harry that Hermione had truly been taken away from them.

            “Why didn’t you just say that earlier?” Draco whispered in his ear, apparently forgiving him for shouting earlier.

            “Because I couldn’t face it. If I did, then it became real, she was really attacked, and it was on me.” Harry sniffed, retreating from Draco, who also had tears in his eyes.

            “It’s not on you, Harry.” Draco cupped his face. “It’s entirely on father, on Voldemort and whoever’s been doing this with that cursed diary. Hermione was just upset you kept secrets from us, she wouldn’t blame you for what happened afterwards. I know she said it would be your fault, but she didn’t mean that, none of the words you said during your fight were anything but pain lashing out. Trust me, she wouldn’t think it’s your fault.”

            “She should.” Harry shook his head, looking at his feet. “If it wasn’t for me, she would be…” he couldn’t continue, as another series of tears swelled up in his eyes, blurring his vision. “And you are right; if any of them saw me back there, they would’ve thought I was a monster.”

            “You’re not a monster, Harry. But you can’t do things like that again.” Draco took in a deep breath and said firmly.

            “Please… If I ever go off the deep end like that, I need you to stop me.” Harry said quietly.

            “That’s what I’m here for, to remind you of all the things I’ve learned during our friendship.” Draco smiled faintly, letting go of Harry, but the boy caught his arm.

            “I mean it, Draco.” Harry faced him with pleading eyes. “Promise me, that no matter what, you will stop me, _whatever_ it takes. I won’t become Voldemort willingly, but what Aragog said was true, it’s easy to just let go and give in to darker impulses.”

            “Okay.” Draco agreed after a tense moment of silence. “Okay, I promise. We’ll keep each other on the good path together, yeah?”

            “Absolutely.” Harry nodded and started walking to the castle.

            They walked in relative silence, only breaking it with the odd sniff and taking a deep breath to calm down.

            It was good, in the end, that they let out their feelings and talked openly, albeit with heated voices. Harry knew that Draco wasn’t protesting that he refrained from fighting back and let his emotions take the wheel, that was understandable, everyone did that, but that he did so with moderation, not letting them take over completely, especially when it came to things like this. And Draco knew that Harry could never be truly capable of evil, that required the boy to be able to revel in the pain that he could cause, and that wasn’t Harry. Draco knew that Harry would feel guilty for what he had done if he had continued, so he stopped him and tried to make him understand that bottling up and running away from your feelings wasn’t the healthy answer. They would be okay. Harry would be okay.

            “Maybe the occasional anger releasing session to dispel any build-up.” Draco joked when they reached the doors, but Harry was too tired to say anything else.

             

 

           

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have it, Harry's mental breakdown that started some chapters ago when he overdid himself in the Arena, going through his obsession with an object and culminating in his showdown with Aragog. If you look back, this has always been the path, that this genius child with a tender heart suddenly doesn't have the answers and is overwhelmed from all sides until some unlucky fellow decides now is a good time to tackle down, which is the spider's mistake; Aragog is a bit of a parallel here with Harry, giant and powerful, followed by many, but in his blind arrogance he falls, and that's the warning he's trying to convey to our protagonist, that good intentions don't excuse the wrong means.
> 
> And there is a very tricky line that Harry has to follow, because being absolutely objective and good isn't going to help him win any faster or easier, and at the same time it's too easy to let go and do whatever it takes to achieve your goal, even if it means sacrificing the things that really matter along the way, and he has seen how both extremes turn out and it's not pretty, so what he has to find is balance and that's hard when you're twelve.
> 
> I love writing them as a group, it's one of my favourite things to write about, but I also love their one-on-one missions that they take sometimes, gives me more leeway to establish character traits and dynamics by how they rapport to one another. Alas, it was all that fuss for virtually nothing, and now they have nowhere to go.
> 
> Gear yourselves up, even if it was a 900 words shorter chapter than usual, the next two are the finale of Book, where the most intense things happen and this really hellish (and I will admit here that I didn't intend for it to be this gruelling, like holy fuck, sometimes I just stared at my screen thinking 'wtf') and exhausting year will end.


	25. The Hidden Chamber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Hermione's attacks throws everyone down a dark downwards spiral, a little bit of helpful advice gives the remaining gang the final push needed to reach their end goal: finding the Chamber of Secrets. For some, this trip proves to be without return, and for others it ends with a shocking turn of events that none could have foreseen.
> 
> (Please read Chapter Notes at the end, as I always shed some light on things in there)

            It was like they were in mourning.

            Hermione wasn’t dead, not truly, some small part of Harry’s mind kept that flame of hope alive against the freezing winds of sorrow. But the way that she was cold and unmoving, still as a statue, gave him the impression that they were watching a corpse. The longer they looked, the more ingrained it became into their minds. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind would supply the girl in the Hospital Wing; her face morphed in his dreams into Collin’s, then Justin’s, then Penelope Clearwater’s and finally Mrs. Norris for some reason, just before it changed back into Hermione and it started all over again.

            He had failed them. He failed to save them and now he was paying the price for it, watching helpless as they remained statues, suspended in time. Were they even aging under all of that? They didn’t seem to require food, their bodies simply stopped working, except for the tiniest of brainwaves that made them still alive. Pomfrey nearly had her Restorative Draught as the Mandrakes were almost matured enough, but Harry dreaded that the person responsible wouldn’t let this go on; the victims coming back to the land of the living was an insult to their work, they wouldn’t stand for that because Voldemort wouldn’t stand for that. Sooner or later, Riddle would unleash his basilisk upon the children of this school, and no amount of reflective surfaces could save all of them. Someone was going to die, and if Harry didn’t intervene he wouldn’t forgive himself.

            He lost the diary that day. He was supposed to keep an eye on it, and instead he had lost sight of it, and the helper got their weapon back, and now Hermione was suffering the consequences of his decision. She had been right, he should’ve disclosed the existence of the diary the moment he had it, but his selfish urge to protect them cost him dearly and his ego made his friend pay the price.

            They were now armed with the knowledge that the girl’s body was found in a bathroom, thanks to Aragog, and even though it narrowed it down, Artpy still had trouble locating it. Problem was that there were many bathrooms in the areas of the attacks, almost eighty of them just in the eastern side of the castle. And just because the girl was found in the bathroom didn’t mean that the entrance was there – what kind of sloppy killer leaves victims outside their doorstep?

            Draco was more than determined to figure it out and spent countless hours on it, searching for any type of information he could find, even during class when he was supposed to pay attention. He was nearly caught a few times by their teachers, but they attributed it to grief upon losing Hermione.

            Hannah seemed lost in her thoughts most of the time, and she gained an unusually quiet demeanour, no longer carefree and wild, but sombre and distant, like she wasn’t there half the time, and any activity she performed was simply robotic, as if her mind was on auto-pilot.

            Neville, however, looked angry and wrathful all the time now, ready to snap at anyone and anything in his path; the second someone dared to upset him, he would explode and shout and throw curses – Harry had to stop him from seriously hurting someone and the other boy even got a detention from Snape when he got into a fight with some Slytherin girl over Hermione’s state, if only to keep him occupied for a couple of hours lest somebody else would test him. Harry made sure the girl in question had detentions with Filch every night for weeks for mocking Hermione’s Petrification as her own fault for being a Mudblood.

            And Harry… He was truly lost. He spent most of his free time watching over her frozen form, as a reminder of his failure to be a true friend, and to protect her should the helper return to finish the job. He was in that chair next to her bed so much that Pomfrey gave up on kicking him out when visiting hours were finished, and simply brought him a blanket, some water and a couple of sandwiches and left for the night. And Harry just stood there, in the quiet, staring at Hermione or at the other beds, or simply into nothing. This was his penance, to watch the results of his actions and inactions over and over again. It didn’t make him feel any better, but being out there was worse.

            Because he was famous, because he was this legendary figure in the wizarding world, people felt this increasing need to express their sorrows to him. As if it would help matters in any way. They came to him and to the others during breaks, during lunches and in between classes, tears in their eyes, pain on their faces and spilled their hearts to him, offering advice, kind words and unwavering support to them. On one hand, it should’ve been anger inducing, these strangers pretending to care about him, daring to come to him and say they’re sorry for someone they didn’t even know. But truly, it was sort of touching the way people just flocked to him to express their sorrows, because he meant something to them, and they just wanted to help. Social media was outpouring with messages of support, but because it was the internet, people took it way too far, asking for Dumbledore’s head for not doing something, that his suspension wasn’t enough, asking for reforms for Muggleborns’ safety in their world, and those that opposed Muggleborns in their world stated that they had no place being there, and it sparked countless debates and fights and articles and it was all bullshit. So Harry stayed away from it all, it required too much energy to combat the hydra that was the online media.

            He exiled himself to Hermione’s bedside because he felt like he wasn’t worthy of everyone’s support during these times, because he ultimately felt responsible. The students coming to him with sincere apologies for what happened had no idea that he was at fault here, and their expressions of sorrow made Harry hurt inside; he couldn’t look a single one of them in their eyes while they offered to help find those responsible, because it killed him to do it. Thus, he remained alone in the Hospital Wing, because no one dared to come to him while he was here. There were limits to public exposure after all.

            His family couldn’t help either. He couldn’t keep this from them entirely, Petunia and Vernon sensed almost immediately that something wasn’t right with him when they called a few days after the attack. It was most likely a parent thing, but Harry couldn’t say the whole truth, otherwise it would open up a whole shit-storm waiting to happen, so instead he said that one of his friends was very ill and were bed-ridden for the time being. He cried with them on the phone, and his heartbreak must’ve been audible, because they offered to come up there to him if needed be. Harry quickly shot that plan down, painfully so. Petunia and Vernon seemed unconvinced that he would be fine, but Harry didn’t want them on his conscience as well. The Grangers were aware of the true situation, however and came to visit one day, body-guarded at all times by scary Aurors upon McGonagall’s insistence (at Harry’s request). Harry thought he was going to get slapped for being there, kept waiting for Mrs. or Mr. Granger to hit him, blame him for all of this, but instead he was hugged by the couple, teary-eyed the both of them, thanking him for watching over her while they couldn’t and tried to remind him that she would come back soon. It was that day that McGonagall finally saw Harry for the first time since she brought him to Hermione’s Petrified body, and the sight broke her in half. The circles under his eyes, the wilder than usual hair, smile gone and the vacant expression firmly in place were clear indications that the young boy full of questions and life that she met years ago was gone.

            Snape was even worse, he tried to forcibly move Harry from the chair that one time, but instead found himself pushed outside of the Hospital Wing the second he tried grabbing his arm. He was positively miffed by that, but he should’ve counted himself lucky that all Harry did was pluck him from the ground and place him delicately outside the door, if a bit fast, and wasn’t pushed backwards. But that wasn’t what made him worse. No, what he did was try to get Harry to understand that it wasn’t his fault and that consuming himself over it wasn’t going to help Hermione get better, and when she woke up she wouldn’t want to see her friends stuck in their wallowing, she would want them to do something to stop this from happening to someone else.

            Snape’s words rang inside of him for days after that, and they stung in Harry’s hurt because they were all true. They were stuck inside of their own stages of grief: Harry was sort of in denial, Neville was angry as hell, Draco was bargaining for anything and Hannah was depressed as shit – _Hannah Abbott_ , who hasn’t smiled or joked _once_ since this all happened, the one person who seemed to be happy and strong no matter what just had her will to live snuffed out of her; it just didn’t seem possible, but her own hurt over Hermione devastated her to the point where she was the complete polar opposite of her older self.

            None of them were accepting what happened. And none of them _should_ , in fact. It went beyond unfair that this had to happen, that there was so much hatred and evil in the world that it made a twelve-year old girl miss out on her life just because she didn’t have the right parentage, because she wasn’t born into the wizarding world. It wasn’t her fault, she didn’t choose to be like this, she had no say in the matter. But she still belonged there, even though there were people like Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy who would say otherwise.

It was nearing curfew and the sun had nearly set behind the mountains in the distance, the last embers of a very bleak day, as it was every day since middle of March. And it was then that Harry had finally said something after a month of complete silence around her.

"This shouldn't have happened" he spoke in a hoarse voice, before dragging his chair closer to the bed and taking Hermione's frozen hand in his, ignoring the way that the cold refused to go away. "I can never express how sorry I am for what has happened to you because of me. And I don't know if you can't hear me or that my words can even mean something to you now... You probably hate me, and I get it, I had no excuse. You're my best friend, Hermione, you're a part of my family and I love you, and I should've thought it through and not hide things from you. But know this," he teared up, voice trembling, "whatever I have to do next, no matter what,    I will do it and I will stop the basilisk and the person helping Riddle, even if it kills me" he swore. "You didn't deserve this, none of you did, and I only helped it along instead of stopping it when I had the chance, so even if it costs me my life, _I will fix this_!" he shook her hand like he was pushing against a wall, hoping against hope that there was at least _some_ part of her, some active remnant of Hermione's soul that heard his apology and his oath. It didn't matter how sharp a basilisk's fangs were, it would hurt more if Harry knew that Hermione wasn't aware of just how much she meant to him and how sorry he was.

 

He got up, gathering his things and left the Hospital Wing for the first time in ages before it was late at night and sleep forced him to move. No, this time he left early because he realised that watching over Hermione's Petrified form was actually a disservice to her, she was out searching for answers and they were crying over something that was going to be fixed. Their mourning had to stop this instant. They weren't helping matters at all.

Harry walked with determined steps towards the Room, a fire lit inside of him that couldn't be put out unless the basilisk and the diary were both destroyed at his feet. He opened the door with a powerful flick of his hand, startling the three inside. Hannah was in the corner of the sofa, looking at her phone, Neville was lying on his back on the rest of the sofa and Draco was at their feet, tapping furiously at his laptop. They looked completely shocked to see him standing there.

"Get up." he gritted through his teeth. "All of you! Off your fucking arses, _now_!" Harry shouted to get them in gear. "We're going basilisk hunting."

"Harry, I know that you're in pain, we all are..." Draco of all people tried to be the voice of calm, but it was already too late for that.

"No." Harry placated him. "No, we're done with this, done mucking about in self-pity and grief and shit! Hermione wouldn't want us to be like this! We have to stop the monster in the school, and we have to do it now! This has gone on _far enough_!" the boy spat.

"And just what do you think I've been trying to do? All alone, I might add?" Draco regained his sneering self.

"Typing away your bloody sorrows." Neville muttered.

"At least I was trying to do something besides make everyone into barbeque every chance I got!" Draco retorted

"SHUT UP!" Hannah stood up and yelled over them all, effectively silencing them. "Listen to yourselves!" she cried. "We can't afford to be divisive now! Harry's right, Hermione wouldn't want us to do this to ourselves, it's been a month of this now, it has to stop" she decided.

"Okay, so what then?" Draco took in a few deep breaths, speaking in a much calmer tone than before. "Trust me, I've been up and down about this, there is absolutely no record online or in the Hogwarts network that could provide us with the name of the victim, those records were sealed long ago before digital technology was even a thing, so we're out of luck on that one. And nobody I've talked to since seems to remember who it even _was_! Somebody dies in the school that _you_ go to and you just forget it like that?" the boy spoke more to himself as he connected his laptop to the _True Scribble_. It seemed that Harry shouting at them to get a grip worked wonders, because they were up doing what they were supposed to be doing a month ago.

"That was the prelude to a war, you can't really expect people to remember a single victim just before hundreds of thousands were killed, sadly." Harry added.

"True, but _someone_ had to have known the girl, it's utterly impossible that she would just be a nobody." Neville countered.

"It was almost fifty years ago, chances are there aren't that many people around who _could_ remember." Hannah pointed out. "I mean, Dumbledore would, of course he would, that guy's ancient and all that, but we can't exactly ask him without him trying to stop us from getting involved."

"There must be something we're missing. Maybe Hermione figured something out." Harry paced around. "Artpy, pull up the report on Hermione Granger and Penelope Clearwater; how were they found?" he asked the supercomputer.

" _Miss Granger and Miss Clearwater were found Petrified in the library at 7:12 PM on March 16 th 2013._" Artpy replied instantly.

"Yes, yes, we _knew_ that already, I'm asking if you found anything unusual from in that report, the weirdest thing you can think of." Harry urged her on.

" _There is one thing: Miss Granger was found with trace amounts on pen ink on her right-hand fingers._ " Artpy said out of a sudden.

"She doesn't draw or write that often on paper." Neville looked confused. "I can count on one hand the amount of times I've seen her write something down physically instead of on her electronics; this is _Hermione_ we're talking about, she wouldn't just write on a piece of paper that she could easily lose when she has an entire cloud at her disposal!"

"Unless she _didn't_ lose it." Harry whispered. "She found out something, and she wanted to make sure only we can get it, she couldn't risk it being sent by electronics, where R or god forbid the helper could intercept it." he spoke louder.

"Brilliant, but unless we can pinpoint exactly _where_ she hid it, we're out of luck." Draco pointed out.

 

At that point, everyone's attention turned to the smartboard because of a notification ping that sounded off. There was a text on the screen, displaying Draco's phone connected to the laptop and in turn projected on the _True Scribble._ R apparently had been kind enough to help them along in this endeavour.

_"What words does your face hide when you look at it?"_

_\- R_

"Of course this bloody wanker would choose to come up now at the _worst_ time to drop one of their ridiculous..." Hannah started, but Neville shushed her.

"No. Wait. It means something." the blue-eyed boy spoke.

"Brilliant, Longbottom, you figured out that every message in existence _has_ a meaning somewhere, but what Abbott was trying to express was the fact that _we don't know what this one means_!" Draco punctuated his words with force.

“Will you shut your gob for a bloody second?” Neville shouted right back. “What words does your face hide when you look… The mirror!” he realised, making everyone jump as he ran towards the table where Hermione’s bag had been gathering dust for the last month. “Hermione had a hand mirror with her when she was found.”

“So? She probably had it with her to see if the basilisk was coming and just see its eyes reflected.” Hannah added gravely, gesturing towards the bag that Neville hurriedly emptied.

“AHA!” he shouted triumphantly, holding it out.

“And the message would be where?” Draco raised an eyebrow. “A secret compartment?”

“That anyone could find?” Harry pointed out. “No, she’s smarter than that, she had to have enchanted it somehow. A trigger word or situation…”

“It would’ve been nice to know these types of things _before_ one of us is out of commission.” Hannah grumbled, taking the mirror from Neville’s hands. “Here, you try it.” she pushed it in Harry’s direction, and the boy took it out of reflex.

“Fat chance she enchanted it for me, she was so angry after…” Harry remembered her words, but it seemed that even an angry Hermione was logical and practical, because she gave her knowledge to find the one person she trusted to end all of this.

The mirror itself changed, as a message was displayed on the surface, but not in neat, cursive letters, but in strong, bolded ones, and everyone rushed to see what they said. Of course, it couldn’t have been as easy as that.

“How did you do that?” Hannah looked bewildered.

“I didn’t do anything, I just touched it!” Harry’s eyebrows shot upwards.

“Hermione must’ve charmed it to respond to your touch alone.” Neville smiled for the first time in days. “She still trusted you, Harry!”

“Ksa Eltrym?” Draco asked, looking over Harry’s shoulder. “Who in the loving fuck is Ksa Eltrym and what do they have to do with all of this?”

“Maybe it’s R’s true identity?” Neville spoke like he tried to reason with himself more like it.

“No.” Hannah shook her head. “It’s on a mirror, and we know what a mirror does.”

“It shows everything backwards.” Harry met her eyes and for the first time in ages, he felt hope. “It’s not Ksa Eltrym, its…” he held it up next to his phone with the front camera on. “Ask Myrtle.” he breathed out. “Oh for the – we’re such fucking _idiots_!” the boy finally lost it, throwing the mirror on the sofa and walked towards the board, before turning around. “It’s been in our bloody face the entire fucking time, _which_ ghost in this castle died young enough to be a student, and around _whose_ bathroom do the incidents keep happening?!” he chided more himself than the others. “No wonder Hermione is smarter than all of us _combined_!”

“She must’ve figured out that Myrtle was the one who died in the bathroom.” Neville realised.

“Yes, but _how_?” Draco felt the need to ask. “I’ve been trying to find out who… who…” he trailed off, looking in the distance, as his mouth opened more and more and then he gestured like a maniac. “Merlin’s arse, there’s an old logbook detailing every achievement of a student within these halls in the library! It’s so ancient and decrepit, not to mention _heavy_ , that you’re not allowed to take it out of the library, and there’s so much stuff in there that you have to sift through hundreds of pages before you get to what you want to find, no wonder it took her so long! She must’ve found Riddle’s no doubt saga-worthy of points and awards until she finally reached the point where it says he stopped Moaning Myrtle’s killer!”

“And then she put it together. Nice one, ‘Mione!” Hannah cheered.

“We have to go there.” Harry broke them out of their daze. “It’s a few more days, give or take, before the Mandrakes are ready, and by that time who knows what plans Riddle has in store for the Muggleborns. We have to strike now.” he declared, walking towards the gym. “Grab your gear, we move in five.”

“How are we going inside the Chamber?” Hannah asked as they reached their combat suits and began to dress, no longer caring if partial nudity was an issue.

“Parseltongue, I wager.” Harry admitted. “There must be something in the loo that resembles a snake so that when I talk to it, the way to the Chamber would reveal itself.” he continued as the bodice of black dragon leather wrapped itself around him.

“Do we really need the knuckle covers for this one?” Draco huffed in annoyance.

“They’re spelled to produce quite the punch and the material is an excellent magical conductor, _are we really having this discussion right about the fuck now_?” Harry tore him a new one.

“Fine, jeesh.” Draco made a face as he dutifully put on the half-sleeves on and tied his boots.

“Everyone set?” Harry asked after a minute, receiving curt nods. “Good, let’s do this. For Hermione, and everyone else affected by this. It stops now.” he ordered, going forward through the exit.

He was out of his mind with terror, realising this was more than just a suicide mission. Hannah had been right all those months ago, when she was against the notion of simply going up against the dangerous creature threatening the student body, because this was something designed to kill and destroy with _a look_. They could be dead in a matter of seconds.

It didn’t matter, though. That monster made the worst decision it could ever make when it went after Hermione like it did. If there were any prior reservations to going inside the Chamber of Secrets, they were gone the minute one of their own was hurt. That creature would pay ten times over for the pain it had inflicted, Harry would make sure it did.

 

As they reached the door, a sudden alarm could be heard from everywhere. At first, they panicked, thinking the worst, that there was an intruder with them, but then they realised that the sounds were coming from beyond the hall and from their devices. It was the signal that foretold a message would be sent through the speakers around the school. But the urgency of it, the sudden appearance and all, made the hairs on the back of Harry’s head stand up. Something wasn’t right. No, something absolutely horrible had happened during the time they figured it out.

 _“All students are to return to their dormitories at once. All teachers to the second-floor corridor. Immediately.”_ McGonagall’s voice rang loud and clear, her grave tone putting weights on everyone’s shoulders.

Harry turned to face the others, a look of dread reflected on each of their faces.

“We’re too late.” Neville whimpered. “Someone has been attacked again.”

“No… No, if it’s just like last time, then that means…” Draco barely could move.

“We’re not letting this happen.” Hannah decided for them. “We’re going, and we’re going to stop this, once and for all. Harry!” she yelled when the boy didn’t move his hand from the doorknob. “Take us down.” she ordered.

Harry steeled himself and nodded.

“Draco, pull up an ice platform, I’ll handle the rest.” Harry commanded, and Draco made one appear right underneath their feet.

Harry made them fly off with it beyond the doors and down the corridor, to the Grand Staircase and down to the second floor in a matter of seconds, using his powers to keep them grounded. Once arrived, Draco made the platform disappear and retreated into the material of his armour, and they ran towards where the gathering of teachers was, right in front of the wall with the message, coming from their right. It wasn’t all of them like Harry had expected, just the Heads of Houses, Sinistra, Remus and Pomfrey. They hid behind the corner and listened as McGonagall was talking with the other teachers in an alarmed tone.

“As you can see, the unthinkable has already happened!” she gestured towards the wall, but the gang couldn’t see what she was pointing at. “The Heir has struck once more, and this time a _student_ was taken inside the Chamber, with the monster itself!” she cried, and everyone’s breath was stuck in their throat at the same time. “I’m afraid this is the end of Hogwarts as we know it. Tomorrow we will put the students on the train. I daresay the school will close for good after this.” she chocked up, and Harry’s fist curled up in anger.

“So sorry, I dozed off, what did I miss?” came a very jovial voice in spite of the situation. Lockhart arrived, blissfully unaware of what had transpired, and was now smiling expectantly at everyone’s worried looks.

“Someone has been taken down in the Chamber of Secrets, Lockhart. This is your moment to shine.” Snape said, effectively wiping the smile of the man’s face. “Didn’t you say last night that you knew where the entrance was all along?” he raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“That’s right, Gilderoy.” McGonagall added. “Your skills are after all legend. You can save this girl and prevent the school from closing.” she challenged. “We’ll leave you to deal with the monster.”

“Yes… Of course.” Lockhart regained some of his smile. “I’ll just be in my office, getting… getting ready.” he announced and turned on his heels and just managed not to run.

“Who was the one taken, Minerva?” Pomfrey asked in a whisper.

“Ginny Weasley.” McGonagall revealed, before leaving with her back from where they came, leaving only Remus and Severus standing there.

“You can come out now.” Snape intoned to the surprise of Remus, one minute later.

Harry and co. walked precariously to where the two men were standing. The boy felt like he was watching from someone else’s perspective, like he was in the diary in a nightmare again, only this time it was his, and this was happening, and it was as real as it got right now.

Ginny Weasley had been taken inside the Chamber by the monster, as evident by the writing on the wall, just beneath the first message, in the same red, shiny letters.

 

HER SKELETON WILL LIE IN THE CHAMBER FOREVER

 

“Ginny…” Hannah whispered. “No, this is all messed up, she is a pureblood, why would the helper make the basilisk take her down there?”

“The monster is a basilisk?!” Remus gasped. “And what in the world are you four _wearing_?” he gestured towards their combat outfits.

“Hush now, Lupin.” Snape chided him. “I’ll explain everything later.”

“Because Ginny _is_ the helper.” Harry realised out loud to the absolute shock of everyone. “She is the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets, killed Hagrid’s roosters and set the basilisk upon everyone.”

“Harry, that’s utterly _insane_ , why would Ginny, of all people, do that?” Neville shook his head violently.

“I have to ask as well. I know her, Arthur and Molly are old friends of mine, I have taught this girl for the past year how to fly on a broom properly, and not once has she seemed like the type to _attack_ people for being Muggleborns.” Remus interjected.

“She didn’t do this because she wanted to.” Draco spoke in Harry’s stead. “Father gave her the diary back in Flourish and Blotts, didn’t he? He took her book from the cauldron, distracted us with his jabs at her family, then placed it back with the diary hidden inside. And you said it yourself, it had a way to make you talk to it once you wrote inside, what if it could make you also do other things?”

“Possession?” Snape thought. “The Dark Lord is certainly not above using mind control upon his minions to do his dirty work for him, especially when he is not in a position to do it himself.”

“ _VOLDEMORT_?” Remus intoned, and Harry felt the need to explain at least _something_ to him.

“Voldemort is actually the Heir of Slytherin, he was the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets for the first time fifty years ago, and then he created an enchanted diary and filled it with so much Dark Magic that it’s not even funny anymore, a diary which apparently takes control over you and makes you continue his work, which was in the possession of Lucius Malfoy, who planned to use it to get rid of Dumbledore from the school by attacking Muggleborn students, but he couldn’t do it himself so he planted it with Ginny Weasley, the daughter of someone he despises due to his association with Muggles, Arthur Weasley.” Harry drew in a breath before continuing. “Ginny was then taken over by the diary and did everything as the Heir would, but now Riddle has made her go into the Chamber. Caught up so far?”

“Just… what in the blazes are you up to when no-one’s looking?” Remus indicated that yes, he did keep up, just that it raised several more questions.

“Nothing you want to know, trust me.” Harry added gravely. “We have to save her, there may still be time to…”

“You are aware that if it’s the Dark Lord we’re talking about that has taken the girl inside the Chamber, and she no doubt unwillingly fed him information about you, the only one to defeat him, that it’s very likely a trap set for you?” Snape crossed his arms.

“So?” the children all asked at the same time.

“So?!” Remus looked aghast. “You’re not venturing in Chamber of Secrets to fight Voldemort _and_ a basilisk!”

“You can’t stop me.” Harry stood his ground. “And don’t even try to, I promise you it won’t be fun.”

“You’re _twelve_!” Remus shouted.

“AND MORE CAPABLE AND POWERFUL THAN YOU GIVE ME CREDIT FOR!” Harry roared right back. “You can’t expect me to be the Boy-Who-Lived and then just hide me when it’s time to fight because I’m _young_ , it didn’t stop Voldemort from trying to kill me when I was a baby, and it won’t stop his sixteen-year old self from unleashing the basilisk upon us all if I don’t stop him! I did it before, last year in fact, and I can do it again.”

“We can help, we’re your teachers, we can…” Remus pleaded.

“You’ve been preparing for this.” Snape looked them over. “That is why you didn’t want anyone but Dumbledore to know where your private dorm is, wherever that is you have been using it to train to fight. You’re not just dressing for the occasion, you’re wearing _armour_.” he realised.

“Severus, you can’t be _serious_ about this!” Remus looked out of his mind. “How can you even consider letting _children_ fight this monster?”

“The reality of the situation is, _Lupin_ , that while we’ve been sitting behind a desk for years and teaching about magic, these _children_ , as you put it, have been preparing mentally and physically to defend themselves from harm all this time and have done things none of us have done in years. Potter and his friends have known for a long time that trouble has been brewing, while _we_ have been sitting around and dealing with the aftermath.” Snape drawled out. “We can’t just go in there and get in the way, _look_ at them!” he gestured, for the first time breaking his calm demeanour. “They’re ready for anything, while we spent the last twelve years going soft, the second we go after them we’ll get killed and Potter would blame himself for putting us in harm’s way.”

“Harry’ stronger than anyone I have ever seen, and I’m an Elemental. So is Malfoy.” Neville said. “Professor Lupin, with all due respect, we know better than you what’s going on and how to deal with it. Professor Snape was right, we _have_ been training for this for months.”

“That and I’m the only one who can open the Chamber and knows where it is, and I won’t do it if I know you’re coming with, and Ginny will die.” Harry dropped a heavy one, and Remus looked ready to cry.

“I just… I can’t let my best friend’s son go off into danger like that. They gave their lives so that you can live!” Remus tried for the low blow.

“They gave their lives so that I may have my own, but what I chose to do with it is on me, and I’m trying to stop the man who killed them from hurting anyone else.” Harry pointed out. “They can’t fault you for any of that, if they are somewhere in the afterlife and they’re angry about it, then they can very well be angry with me, because this is my decision, nobody else’s, no one’s forcing me to do this, _I_ am choosing of my own free will to risk my safety for others.”

“Are you sure about this?” Remus sighed after a tense second.

“Completely.” Harry reassured the man.

“And nothing I say or do can stop you?” he asked.

“No.” Harry decided with a heavy heart.

“Then what do you want me to do?” Remus asked.

“Get ready if things go south and we fail.” Harry swallowed. “Don’t, Remus.” he raised a hand to stop the man from rebutting. “Even if we didn’t go and you went in there and failed, or nobody does, then the basilisk survives anyway and gets loose in the school and who knows what happens then. What I’m trying to say is that if we’re not back in two hours, then you have to immediately evacuate the school. But if we go, then there’s a higher chance that we can stop it. You’ve seen what I can do.” he walked over to the other man. “You know that I’m different from any other wizard my age or beyond, but if I sit idly by and don’t _use_ the abilities that I’ve been given to do good, then I don’t deserve them.” he looked him in the eye.

“Lily would’ve made the exact same argument like you.” Remus sniffed and Harry swore Snape looked a bit misty eyed. “Alright. Alright, I’m trusting you, but you have an _hour_ before I come in after you, I don’t care what happens then, I’m not leaving you alone.”

“I’m not alone.” Harry smiled and looked at his friends. “But you have a deal.”

“Good. But at least take Lockhart with you.” Remus offered.

“I thought you wanted Potter _alive_.” Snape raised an eyebrow.

“I know he’s an arrogant git, but if he’s at least half as good as he says he is, then they may have a chance.” Remus countered.

“Fine, we’ll take him with us!” Draco groaned. “Now can we stop wasting time?”

“Go, prepare everyone for emergency evacuation.” Harry nodded to the two men. “I’ll get Lockhart and save Ginny.”

“Be careful, Potter.” Snape looked at him worriedly. “I know you’re the only one who can end this, but just the same, make sure you survive.”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Harry smiled faintly. “Now, go!”

The children and the two teachers separated ways as the two men headed for McGonagall’s office and the gang for Lockhart’s. Why exactly Remus insisted on him was unclear to Harry, the man was clearly exaggerating his skills, but the Flying Instructor clearly thought that there may have been a good use for him down in the Chamber.

 

“Are we positive about this?” Hannah asked as they opened the Defence classroom. “I get the feeling Lockhart isn’t…”

“That great a wizard? No, he isn’t, but he’s the fact remains that he’s at the very least qualified to battle Dark creatures, so we’re left with few options. By the time we get the Auror department or any wizarding force here it will be too late for us, he’s the only one we’ve got.” Harry sighed, opening the Professor’s private chambers. “Professor, we have something to tell you –” Harry spoke, but then he took in the scene in front of his eyes.

The man was running around frantically through his quarters, bags neatly packed, before they flew around into one single trunk, disappearing in what was no doubt a larger inside. The man stopped his actions and regarded the children with a frightful stare.

“Are you _going_ somewhere?” Harry intoned dangerously.

“Y-yes… Urgent call, so sorry, can’t be avoided!” the Professor trilled with a stammer, tidying up what was now becoming a barren office.

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me.” Neville gritted his teeth to the shock of everyone. “You’re the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher! You can’t just _leave_ now! What about Ginny Weasley!?” his voice echoed powerfully.

“Yes, well… I’m terribly sorry about all of that, but I can’t help her.” Lockhart regained his senses and _continued_ to pack.

“What about all of the things you wrote in your books?” Hannah couldn’t believe her eyes.

“My dear girl, use your common sense!” Lockhart blew up, gesturing wildly with his hands. “My books wouldn’t have sold have as much if people didn’t think _I_ did those things! I mean, honestly, who would’ve wanted to know that the defeater of the trolls in Bermuda was a witch with a lazy eye, or the vampire slayer a wizard with half his face burned? It just wasn’t aesthetically pleasing, you understand…”

It was then the trunk behind him started trembling, before the lid was opened by some invisible force, and hundreds of pages flew up in the air in a flurry, with the sound of dozens of wings taking flight. As they flew down, Harry could recognise them as pages from Lockhart’s books, but they were all ripped out forcefully from their bindings, and there were angry scribbles on all of them in black crayon, a single word spread out on every page.

_LiaR… CheateR… FRaud…WipeR… GRandstandeR… ChaRlatan… HoaxeR… TricksteR… SwindleR… ImposteR… PRetendeR… SchemeR…_

The capitalised R’s told Harry all he needed to know, that R had been right all along about this man and has now exposed him for what he truly is. A _fake_.

“What is the meaning…” Lockhart looked ready to piss his pants.

“You’re a fraud.” Harry spoke. “You have taken credit for what other wizards have done and used it to gain _fame_ and money. And you had the _audacity_ , the _gall_ to talk to me about temperance and patience? You didn’t even _earn_ what you have now, you had to steal it from other people, because you’re _useless_ , a waste of space, you’re nothing!”

“Is there anything you _can_ do?” Draco sneered.

“Actually, there is!” Lockhart regained some of his earlier wit, but it was obviously forced. “I am quite adept at memory charms. How do you think I got away with it all? In fact, I now have to do the same thing to you…” he reached down in his pockets for his wand.

But Neville was quicker than everybody.

“ _Expelliarmus_!” the blue-eyed boy whipped his hand in a flash of red, sending Lockhart’s wand flying through the air, and Hannah caught it with one hand out of instinct. “ _Depulso_!” Neville shoved the teacher into the wall with force, before descending on him with a fireball burning in his hand. “You shouldn’t have let Professor Snape teach us that one, Lockhart! You will not lay a _hand_ on me or my friends, you lying sack of…” he looked ready to burn the man out of existence, before Harry had the sense to stop him from committing the worst mistake of his life.

“Neville!” Harry put a hand on his shoulder, ignoring the way Lockhart was whimpering and covering his face, whole body trembling in fear. “That’s enough, he’s defenceless now.”

“We wasted time with him, time we could’ve used to save Ginny!” Neville breathed heavily, truly angry right now, but he defused the flame nonetheless. “He’s bloody useless!”

“No, not entirely. We can still have him help us.” Harry figured, with a calm look upon his face.

“How?” Neville calmed down.

Harry regarded the man with a disgusted look. Years of lying and resting on other’s merits have made him into a coward that ran away from responsibility and gave him an inflated sense of self, he had used and stole and made money out of the naïve masses. It was finally time to face the consequences. And if Hermione were here, she would’ve likely protested this plan, but she wasn’t, and Harry was too far gone now to stop.

“Cannon fodder. Get up!” he made the man stand up.

“Where… Where are we going?” Lockhart swallowed as Neville dragged him.

“The Chamber of Secrets, where you will help us defeat the basilisk inside.” Harry revealed. “You’ll get your wand and your things afterwards, provided you survive.” he declared, cleaning up the explosion of paper, putting it back in the trunk and activating the size charm on it, turning it small enough that it fit in his palm, before pocketing it away.

“But – but I…!” Lockhart pleaded.

“Unless you want Longbottom to turn you into Pompeii, you’ll do as we say.” Draco talked over him. “Let’s go, we have a girl to save.”

Neville dragged the whimpering man with them, as the five made their way back to Myrtle’s bathroom. It was certainly strange, their group, seeing four children holding a grown man hostage as they walked to what was their most dangerous undertaking yet.

Harry’s mind, while determined about the course of their actions, kept supplying him with gruesome images about what they would find down there. Would Ginny still be alive at this point? Has their detour to Lockhart’s office taken too much of their precious time? He didn’t know how to deal with the fact that the young girl he ran into Flourish and Blotts could be dead by the time they reached her. And he didn’t know what to do if one of his friends were hurt.

They had trained for this, for all these months now, but in the face of the looming threat, Remus’ words came back to haunt him. They were children, after all, children of immense power and considerable skill, sadly the only capable force lying around, with the other teachers not ready to face such a monster and too busy protecting every other student. Harry hoped that they would be enough, that even as young and still untested as they were, they would be more than sufficient for the task.

He remembered wishing to be older, to be taken more seriously and to be able to make decisions for himself, but as of right now, when he marched to what was likely his death, of no one’s making but his own, he wished with all his might that someone would come to save him, that someone would stop him in his tracks and send him home.

 _Home_ …

Petunia, Vernon and Dudley would be devastated if something happened to him, he knew they would. And by now it was too late to say goodbye to them, in all the frenzy he didn’t realise he never sent a text to them, didn’t talk to them before this all happened. And now he couldn’t, because the moment he did he would’ve likely stopped and turned around.

But he knew he couldn’t do that. Not when he had so much to lose. Not when Hogwarts was threatening to close, not when Dumbledore was gone, not when Hagrid was in prison for a crime he didn’t commit and not when Ginny, Hermione and Collin depended on him. He made it so that he was the only one to stop the basilisk, he couldn’t be like Lockhart and turn away and run just because he was scared of dying.

He had finally realised what his desire to mature actually meant; when you grow up, you realise that at some point you have to put others before yourself just as much as you put yourself before others, perhaps even more so, that doing the right thing sometimes meant that you had to do the hard thing, the painful thing.

 

Harry was pulled out of his thoughts when they reached the wall with the blood writing on it, only to encounter a most strange sight. Ronald Weasley was pacing in front of the wall, like he was waiting for something. The truth was revealed when upon seeing them, the boy ran over hurriedly, to the confusion of everyone.

“There you are! I’ve been waiting for ages here!” the red-head looked them over.

“Ron? What are you doing here? There’s a curfew!” Neville frowned.

“Doesn’t seem to matter to you, now, does it?” the sarcastic response came.

“We don’t have time for this, Weasley, your sister’s…” Draco rolled his eyes.

“I know about my sister, _Malfoy_!” Ron gritted his teeth. “That monster took her down with it into the Chamber of Secrets!”

“Right, so we have to hurry to save her, now if you’d excuse us…” Harry tried, but the youngest Weasley son wouldn’t be evaded so easily.

“I know, and I want to help!” Ron puffed his chest.

“ _You_?” Draco sneered, but the other boy ignored him.

“I knew you would come here to investigate, and I know that last year you stopped Quirrell from getting the Philosopher’s Stone, so I thought you would try to stop the Heir of Slytherin as well, and since it’s _my_ sister that’s missing,” he side-eyed Draco, “I came here to lend a hand.”

Blank stares were all that he got in return for about two seconds.

“Well, seems you have enough help as it is…” Lockhart spoke in his cheerful manner and made a move to leave, but Neville gripped him harder with burning fingers for a few seconds. “Ah – ah – ah… _Ow_!” the teacher yelled in pain before Neville stopped his torture.

“You’re not going anywhere. And you’re not coming with us, Ron.” Neville declared, dragging Lockhart with him, as Hannah and Draco followed him. “Talk some sense into him, Harry.” he shouted over his back.

“What? But…” Ron sputtered, as Harry sighed deeply.

“Ron, I appreciate your offer, but I’m sorry, Neville’s right; you can’t come with us. But I’ll save her, don’t worry.” he placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder for a second and tried to leave, but Ron wouldn’t give up so easily, grabbing him by the hand and using the other one to take out his wand, pointing it at Harry.

“NO! I am not letting you go until you agree to let me help!” he said trembling with terror.

“And just what are you doing?” Harry couldn’t extract himself from his surprisingly strong grip without use of magic.

“You don’t understand, Harry! I have to be there for her! This whole year I have done nothing but basically ignore her and now she’s in danger and I could’ve _done_ something, could’ve talked to her, then maybe she wouldn’t have been out, wandering alone without her friends, it’s my fault she’s trapped in there!” Ron spoke with tears in his eyes.

“Ron, I understand, more than you can know. My friend, Hermione, is in the same position right now, Petrified because she was out on her own after we had a fight. Trust me when I tell you there is no one else in here that knows what you’re going through right now.” Harry’s voice softened and the boy’s grip loosened enough at his words so that Harry liberated his hand.

“Then you know that I _have_ to be there for her.” Ron tried one more time, but Harry shook his head.

“You don’t know what’s down there. The monster is a basilisk, and the Heir is actually a memory of Voldemort when he was in school. That’s what’s been causing all of this, the Dark Lord himself.” Harry made Ron go pale as a sheet.

“No, no that means…” Ron breathed.

“But I can stop him, Ron. I’ve done it before, and I can do it now. The problem is that I can’t save your sister if I have to keep an eye out for you. The others can handle themselves, we’ve been preparing for something like this, but you haven’t. Just think about what it would do to Ginny if we save her, but you die in the process. She would be devastated, and she will blame herself her whole life for it. And what if you get in the way and she dies because of it?” Harry tried to guilt him into leaving. It was hurtful, but it was the truth.

“I can’t just leave her…” Ron sobbed, lowering his wand.

“You’re not.” Harry assured him, placing a hand on his arm. “You’re letting the people who can rescue her do just that, so that you can see her again and be the brother you want to be to her.”

“I thought being in Gryffindor meant that I was supposed to be brave…” Ron sniffled.

“It’s not cowardice to admit that you’re not strong enough or ready enough sometimes, Ron.” Harry argued. “Please, I have to go, she may not have much time left.”

“Okay.” Ron nodded. “Okay, but if you don’t bring her back, I _swear_ , I don’t care how strong you are, I am going to…”

“I know.” Harry smiled. “And I will, don’t worry. Now go, before someone sees you out here.”

“Just bring her back to me, Harry. Please.” Ron pleaded before walking away hurriedly, leaving Harry with a heavy burden in his heart.

If there was ever the remote possibility that he could’ve turned away, it left along with the twelve-year old Gryffindor down that corridor. He now knew that there was no chance in hell that he could’ve done it, especially when confronted with the real reminder that there were people who cared about those suffering from the attacks.

 

Harry entered the girl’s bathroom to see that the rest were waiting for him, along with Myrtle who just flew in to yell at them for being in her precious space.

“What, came to make fun of crying Moaning Myrtle?” she screeched at the strange gathering.

“That wasn’t always your name, wasn’t it?” Harry intoned carefully, announcing his presence as he walked towards her floating figure, just at the arcade where the stalls were. “You had to have a name just like everyone else.”

Neville, Hannah, Draco and Lockhart were quietly watching, as Myrtle’s features softened and her demeanour shifted, flying more gently towards her favourite.

“Yes, Myrtle Diane Warren was my name, back when I was a girl in this castle and I learned magic just like you. I was in Ravenclaw, actually. But now I am forced for all eternity to wander around, watching others grow old and have life.” she lamented.

“It must be awful, Myrtle.” Harry truly meant it, facing her. “I can’t imagine how that must feel like.”

“You can get used to it, after a while.” she batted her spectral eyelashes, and out of the corner of his right eye, Harry could see his friends making various weird faces at the ghost’s flirting.

“Can I ask, Myrtle? How you died?” Harry got to the crux of the matter, and it was as if he suddenly opened the gates to heaven for the dead girl.

“Oh, it was _awful_.” she said, but it sounded like she was talking about the most wonderful experience she had ever had. “I was terribly upset about Olive Hornby making fun of my glasses, that horrible little girl! Oh, you don’t even know how terrible people can be when you wear them, and now I have to wear them for all time!” she hiccupped, floating around and looking at the room with a dramatic air around her.

“I do, actually.” Harry found himself saying. “For the first nine years of my life I had terrible eyesight, and upon reaching primary school, my school nurse discovered that I had to wear glasses, and I did for a few years.”

“Really?” Myrtle couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “And how did you get rid of them?”

“Oculus Potion.” he waved nonchalantly, but it only served to anger her.

“Just one more thing I can never enjoy, thanks to Olive! But I got her in the end, I haunted her for the rest of her life, until finally she had to go to the Ministry and I was ordered to remain here, to the place I died, every day!”

“It’s so unfair, Myrtle.” Harry nodded in sympathy. “That she got to live and you had to spend eternity at the scene of your murder.”

“M-murder?” Myrtle looked confused and scared for some reason.

“I’m sorry to tell you this, Myrtle, but you didn’t just die, you were _killed_.” Harry took a few steps towards her. “By the same thing that’s now threatening the school. And now there’s a girl, just like you, that is in danger of going through what you did. Can you tell me _exactly_ how you died? Please, it’s very important that you remember.” Harry pleaded sincerely.

“Well…” Myrtle looked deep in thought. “I was hiding in the stall I now haunt because I was crying, when I heard a voice, speaking in a strange language, one that I never heard before in my life. Only, this wasn’t a girl’s voice, that much I could tell, but a _boy_ ’ _s_! What was he doing in here, I wondered. I wanted to keep to myself, but he was still talking, all strangled whispers and awful sounds coming from him, until I had enough, and I opened the door to tell him to go away and then… I died.” she wailed.

“Did you figure out who it was?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know, I was distraught! And the last thing I remember was pair of big, yellow eyes, over there, by that sink.” she gestured towards it, before wailing and wandering off.

Harry walked over to it and tried to turn it open, but it didn’t do anything, even though the rust underneath it suggested that it should’ve. Upon further inspection, he found a carving, a really small one, one the side of the metal faucet, just barely visible – a snake, coiled for attack, mouth open. If one didn’t know to look for it, it would’ve passed as simply an odd scratch into the plumbing.

“This is it.” Harry breathed. “Guys, this is it! This is the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.”

“We’ve finally found it.” Hannah said. “Hermione was right.”

“Say something, Harry.” Neville urged him. “Say something in Parseltounge.”

Harry looked at the image of the snake and tried to picture it moving, like it was a real life one, imagining it talking to him.

“ _Open_.” the boy spoke, but this time he knew that it wasn’t English.

 

A low rumble started from the group of sinks, as the top part started lifting itself in the air, and the sound of marble against marble grated in their ears, the sinks pulling themselves outwards, slowly but surely, the passage of time not allowing them to move as fast as they should. They stopped after a few metres, and the sink with the carving suddenly lowered itself into the ground, revealing a dark hole behind it, before disappearing underneath a stone platform that slid on top of it.

The hole had absolutely no lighting inside, and it smelled of sewer. Peering closer at it, Harry used his light from his phone to see that it curved down somewhere lower, effectively turning it into a slide.

“Well, this is it.” Draco prepared himself. “You first.” he pushed Lockhart towards the entrance, and the man barely had time to catch himself on the other available sinks.

“Me? Why me?” the man cried.

“Better you than us.” Hannah clicked her tongue, arm at the ready for anything.

“Yes, obviously…” Lockhart muttered to himself, turning around on wobbly knees. “Are you sure you don’t – AH!” the man yelled as Neville kicked him in the back, forcing him down the entrance. His cries echoed for a while, and after ten seconds there was a loud crash. “It’s quite filthy down here.” came a disgruntled voice from below.

“Here goes.” Draco made the platform reappear and sent it with them down below. Honestly, Harry was growing a bit tired from venturing beneath the castle to find Voldemort.

What followed was an outright sewer ahead of them, dank and smelly, connected with multitudes of other pipes leading into various other directions, before coming to an end, a few hundred metres or so below the school, into a spacious cavern, at the bottom of which there were numerous bones from animals, crunching loudly when one stepped on it. Lockhart was looking around dumbfounded as the others gently made their way down

“Ew!” Draco gagged as his boot destroyed what remained of a rat’s skull. “Oh, and it’s _wet_ underneath it. Great. Why can’t Slytherin’s monster hang somewhere nice?”

“I think there’s some sort of spell that lures small animals here for it to feed. It can’t just not eat for thousands of years.” Harry theorised, before setting off precariously into what seemed like an opening. “Remember, any sign of movement and you cover your eyes, or look somewhere else, and have your rooster sound at the ready.”

The cavern ahead was less tall than the previous one, but longer, and it remind Harry of Gringotts, except darker and with barely any light that didn’t came from them or the shiny minerals in the walls. It was the oldest part of the castle, so low below ground that no one could’ve reached it without serious mining, judging by the Eiffel Tower length of rock and stone above them.

There was something down with them, just ahead. It was green and thick, with what looked like scales. And then another, bigger, right in front of it. Harry had the brief moment of terror that there was _more_ than one basilisk, but after the draft that came with them moved inside small holes in the things, he realised that it was just snakeskin.

“Oh, and it sheds. Lovely.” Hannah made a face.

“It’s a giant snake, what did you expect?” Harry snorted.

“It has to be over 20 metres long and it’s thicker than two of us combined, _Merlin_.” Neville looked horrified.

Lockhart looked at the skin only once, before his eyes rolled in the back of his head and promptly fell on his face, dust clouds rising around him as he thumped to the ground.

“Heart of a lion, this one.” Draco tittered and walked over him, but as soon as Hannah went to get him up, the man immediately raised himself in a flash and stole back his wand, as the girl yelped, head locked with his arm around her neck.

“Hannah!” everyone else yelled, but Lockhart had finally had enough.

“Don’t come any closer, unless you want her brains on the wall!” he threatened with his wand on her temple, and the children stopped moving immediately. Harry might’ve been fast, but not fast enough to stop them. “Ruddy children, messing with things you have no business interfering with! I should’ve know better than to try and teach you, you bring nothing but trouble!”

“Let her go, Lockhart, I’m only going to say this _once_!” Neville warned, fingers ready to burst him into flames.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you. Now,” his hand let go of Hannah but still held the wand near at her head and used her as a shield, “my things, if you please.” he extended his hand out towards Harry.

He had no choice. Hannah looked completely terrified, unable to do anything lest she was turned into paste, and the rest couldn’t risk hurting her by going after the man. Begrudgingly, Harry tossed him the miniaturized trunk.

“Thank you.” Lockhart chuckled darkly. “You know, I would’ve exited nicely, but I had a thought. See, I can’t just let you all spill my secrets if you survive out here, oh no.”

“Gilderoy, don’t.” Harry tried, but he had his plan B at the ready just in case.

“Yes, I think that will do.” the man went completely maniacal. “I’ll tell them our story, don’t worry. How I was too late to save the girl, how the three of you lost their lives, and how Miss Abbott lost her mind completely upon seeing your wretched corpses, oh the drama, the _horror_.” he laughed and that was it, he went completely mad.

“Don’t do this, there’s someone’s _life_ on the line!” Draco looked desperate upon seeing his friend in danger.

“My _career_ is on the line, but you had no qualms about destroying that!” Lockhart spat. “But very well, I won’t kill you, just the people that you are. You first, Mister Potter.” he turned towards Harry.

The boy caught Hannah’s gaze and immediately reassured her by pointing his eyes at the floating rock just out of Lockhart’s field of view, as the man concentrated on Harry. He had raised the rock silently during their stand-off, ready to throw it when the time is right. Hannah then understood that she was meant to flee the second she could.

“Say goodbye to your memories.” Lockhart intoned, and Harry flicked his fingers slightly the moment the wand was turned to him.

The teacher was hit in the left side of his face instantly, pushing him and unbalancing his feet, giving Hannah enough time to escape him, running towards them. It wasn’t over yet, as Lockhart regained his footing, handsome face disfigured and bloodied, hair dirty and filled with rock.

“ _Obliviate_!” he shouted, and Harry barely had time to react.

He threw up a shield, the most powerful one yet. The spell recoiled back into Lockhart’s unsuspecting face, but that wasn’t all. The shield expanded so suddenly and so forcefully that it extended into the man himself, _launching_ him with speed into the celling, a resounding crack that echoed through the empty chamber, followed by a deep rumble, as Gilderoy Lockhart fell down on his face and didn’t move.

“Oh my god…” Harry breathed in horror of what he had done, watching the strange position in which the man fell, arms twisted and neck in an unnaturally bent way.

“Uh, guys?” Neville looked upwards, as the bedrock started to crumble and cracked, before it shook before their very eyes.

The recoil from the spell and the shield was too much for the ancient cavern, which couldn’t have been sustained by much after so long, and thus it started to fall apart, raining down thousands of tonnes of stone on their heads.

“GET DOWN!” Harry order them and yelled out as he tried to push all of it with his power, to save them from being collapsed upon.

But it didn’t stop. The avalanche of rock and who knows what still came down on them. It was too much, too much even for his power alone, a second more and they were done, they were dead, just like Lockhart…

 

And then it _stopped_.

The rocks were just floating in the air, suspended as if someone turned off time itself, clouds of dust and dirt as still as ice. There were giant boulders, millimetres away from their faces, but they stood still, unmoving.

“Holy shit!” Neville breathed when he realised they were still alive and in one piece.

“Any time now, Potter!” Draco urged him.

But Harry just lowered his hands, because he came to a startling conclusion.

“It’s not me, it’s…”

They all looked over at Hannah, who had her eyes shut and her hands extend out, gripping something invisible. As she turned her face towards the rockslide, she gasped a few times in rapid succession, looking at her hands with eyes as big as dinner plates.

“It’s… I’m…!” Hannah couldn’t find the right words, smiling so brightly it nearly hurt to remember that she hadn’t for quite some time, and turned to look at Harry with excitement. In that second, the avalanche started again, but thankfully Hannah refocused on it and stopped it before they were all squished.

“HANNAH!” they all yelled.

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t know it would… I don’t know _how_ , but I…” she stuttered.

“ _Will you put the giant rocks that are going to kill us back where they belong_?!” Draco shouted, and Hannah pushed it all back with a grunt, throwing her hands upwards.

The celling then repaired itself, like nothing had ever happened to it in the first place. The only indication that it wasn’t the case was the dust floating around in the air.

“That was _awesome_!” Hannah jumped around. “Did you see that? I _controlled_ the rocks, I made them fuse back together… I’m an _Elemental_!” she cried as the others got up and dusted their clothes. Out of reflex, because Harry made sure their dragon leather couldn’t retain dirt.

“Merlin’s lingerie, I think you’re right.” Neville laughed incredulously, looking up.

“Does that mean R was right after all?” Draco asked, looking at Hannah strangely.

“Nevermind R. What do we do with him?” Harry asked as he walked over to Lockhart’s figure. “Fuck…” he cried out, after seeing there was no pulse. “He’s dead. He’s dead and I killed him…” Harry’s breath got caught up in his throat.

“No, you put up a shield and he snapped his neck on the recoil, Potter, you didn’t physically set out to kill him, _unlike he tried earlier with us_.” he made sure Harry got the point across. “You’ve saved Abbott and possibly us and she got Elemental powers out of it, which we will now use to save the Weasley girl.”

“Draco’s right, Harry. It was his own fault, not yours.” Neville said, but still stared at Lockhart’s corpse with a morbid determination, like he was trying to justify it.

“Come on, Harry.” Hannah took him by the shoulders and guided him away. “We have to go. We’ll deal with it later, right now there is someone we have to rescue.”

“You’re right.” Harry sniffed and tore himself away. “Let’s go.” he ordered and pressed on.

There was a battle inside of him, two parts of his mind shouting different things inside his head. One tormented him for causing the death of someone, the other pointed out that they brought Lockhart to use as a human shield of sorts, true, but the first said that it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t have survived the encounter, provided they acted quickly. The plan was never for the man to die after all.

 _No. This is just like the troll and just like with Quirrell. All of them tried to hurt and kill me and them. Me defending myself and them dying isn’t something to be guilty about_ – Harry said to himself and gathered his wits about him. The true battle hadn’t even begun. Ginny’s life depended on him to be clear-headed.

 

They reached a large, circular door, like a shield, with numerous snakes protruding out of the metal, coming out from the side with the hinges and ending with their heads underneath large metal clasps, like locks.

“We’re already inside the Chamber, what’s the use of a _second_ door?” Draco drawled out.

“Go on, Harry, do your thing.” Neville said but before Harry had time to draw breath, Hannah stepped in front of them.

“Pfft… _please_.” she chuckled, shot out her hand, made a fist and moved it to the side in a sudden move, and at the same time the earth around the door cracked, before it was thrown instantly, opening the way.

“ _Wow_.” Harry looked impressed. “You’re awfully in tune with your newfound powers.” he stated.

“The basilisk has now _three_ Elementals do deal with, and with you. Come on!” she urged them and walked through her new opening.

 

Inside was the legendary Chamber of Secrets. After an entire year of searching and wondering, they were finally inside of it. And it didn’t disappoint; it was nearly as tall as the distance they travelled down here, nearly as long as their gym in the Room back up top, multiple columns placed evenly on either side of their green marbled path, statues of snake heads seemingly coming out of the side walls, and in between there were holes that lead in the plumbing of the school. The architecture was clearly thought out, everything was dark marble and expensive stone, and back in the day it must’ve been quite the office, except that now it felt dark and foreboding, and the carved snakes on the columns looked like they were watching their every step of the way. If it didn’t have a giant snake somewhere, Harry would’ve like to have explored it, find out if the carvings meant anything or if there was another area that they couldn’t see.

At the end of the incredibly long room was a giant statue, as tall as the Chamber itself, a wizard in robes carved out of thick stone, his face so high it was obscured, but they didn’t need to see it to know who it was. This was his Chamber after all.

At the statue’s feet was a semicircle of dirty water that looked deeper the closer to the end, but at the shore was a figure, dressed in black robes, the only discernible thing about it was the red flame-like hair, draped on the wet floor.

“Ginny.” Harry inhaled sharply, before he flew towards her, the others right behind him. “Ginny!” he yelled, reaching her unmoving form, and Harry thought the worst, dread setting inside his stomach, before his trembling fingers found the _barely_ there pulse in her neck. It was so slow, and she was so cold, and she didn’t wake up, oh god, she didn’t wake up…

“Ginny?” Hannah cupped her face as they crouched down next to her. “Is that the diary?” she caught sight of it in the girl’s hands, clutched at her chest protectively.

“We have to get her out, come on Harry!” Neville shook him.

“But what if she doesn’t wake up?” Draco asked, horrified.

“She won’t wake.” said a voice.

 

They all stood up and were ready to attack, but the source was just a boy, older than them, dark curls neatly arranged on his head, high cheek-bones and strong jaw, Slytherin robes looking clean and prim on him. He stood there, to the right of the statue, hands behind his back, looking calm, like he was watching some boring show on TV. But Harry knew where he had seen him before.

“Riddle.” he gritted, and the others exchanged looks of concern.

“Hello, Harry. It’s nice to finally meet you properly.” he smiled and walked towards them.

“Stay back!” Harry raised his hand. “I know who you are, Tom Riddle! You can drop the games and speak plainly.” he warned.

“Hmm… Yes, Ginny told me you were clever.” he smiled wickedly before circling them, looking around in the Chamber. “She told me all sort of things, that girl. Oh, how I endured her childish prattling and her incessant questions. How she _gushed_ about how wonderful Hogwarts is, and how her friends are, and how she kept blacking out, people were attacked, her waking up in places she didn’t remember travelling to… But I was there, always there to comfort her. But the power of the diary scared her, she tried to dispose of it in the girl’s bathroom. But then who should find it, but you, Harry?” he shot a glance at the boy and kept walking.

“How are you outside the diary?” Draco asked. “You’re the memory of the Dark Lord from fifty years ago, how are you able to just walk about?”

“I preserved my memory in the diary, to continue my work after I left the school, Draco. I left it in _Lucius’_ ” he elongated the ‘s’ sounds in the name. “capable hands for him to pass it to someone I can take over.” Riddle explained. “After I framed that oaf, Hagrid, Dumbledore kept an annoyingly close eye on me, so I couldn’t risk opening it again.”

“I bet Dumbledore saw right through _you_.” Hannah spat.

“Old man never knew to keep his crooked nose out of trouble. Especially after I discarded my filthy Muggle father’s name and fashioned myself a new name, a powerful name, one that would strike _fear_ into the hearts of everyone. Except, it seems, when it comes to you Dumbledore just lets you all run around and do _the right thing_. Yes, I know all about you four. And the Mudblood currently in the Hospital Wing.” he chuckled, stopping in his tracks and regarding them. He was now on the left side of the room. Harry was ready for anything at this point and kept a look out for the basilisk to come and eat them at any given second. “It matters not now, after all, as poor Ginny grows weaker, I grow stronger, until I am finally free of the confines of the pages in that book.”

“We’re not going to let you hurt Ginny anymore!” Neville exclaimed. “I’m not afraid of you, _Riddle_. I faced you last year and _won_ , just like Harry did.”

At this, the boy’s face turned dark for a second before he recomposed himself into his earlier nonchalant manner.

“Yes, Ginny wrote me all about your history with my older self. And the debacle with the Philosopher’s Stone I can understand, I had to resort to taking bodies of weak wizards, no wonder you all defeated me. But what I’m most curious about, is how that came to be.”

“I just _touched_ you and you crumbled to ash, _Voldemort_.” Harry taunted him. “I’ve seen you now, you’re nothing more than a ghost, you’re so _weak_ …”

“Then tell me, _Harry_.” Riddle intoned, his beautiful features shifting into something dark and monstrous. And there is was, the murderer underneath that façade. “How did you manage, a baby of no noteworthy magical talent, to destroy the greatest sorcerer this world has ever seen?!” he commanded.

“Albus Dumbledore is the greatest sorcerer this word has ever seen!” Neville rebutted.

“Dumbledore has been driven out of his castle by the mere _memory_ of me!” Riddle clamoured.

“He’s not gone, not while there are those still loyal to him!” Neville argued with the Dark Lord.

 

A high-pitched trill echoed somewhere above them, pausing their interaction. A flash of fire, and then something like a large eagle, red and orange, flew to them, with a song that instilled their resolve and gave them courage.

It was _Fawkes_.

Dumbledore’s phoenix came to their aid, and for a moment Harry thought Dumbledore _himself_ would come, but instead the bird just dropped a piece of fabric at their feet, before disappearing into the air with another flash. Harry picked it up immediately, and saw that it was the Sorting Hat. Why would Dumbledore send him the _Hat_ , out of everything else?

“So is this the gifts loyalty to Dumbledore brings? I should think a tattered old hat wouldn’t be of much use to you here.” Riddle chuckled darkly, and the children had to agree on some level with that.

“Doesn’t matter, I’ll stop you.” Harry declared. “Your legacy ends today!”

“Oh, no, my dear Harry.” Riddle looked so full of himself the boy wanted to punch him in the face. “It has only just begun. And I haven’t even gotten to the best part!”

“What do you mean?” Draco asked through his teeth, water behind him ready to turn into icicles if needed.

“Ginny wrote enough in the diary that she _poured_ part of her into it, and I was able to do the same to her, take control, make her open the Chamber and unleash my basilisk. Funny… how a little diary can do so much harm, especially in the hands of a silly girl. But you, Harry, should’ve known _better_.”

Harry’s mind zoomed back to the week before he lost the diary, in which, out of a moment of desperation, wrote down his feelings for Neville in it before closing it and throwing it back in his bag, never to open it again. It was stupid, he knew that then, he had been trying to coax information out of Riddle and he wrote something back, even after he was so careful.

“No… No, I just said _one_ thing…” Harry took a step back, his mind fully in denial.

“Harry, what is he talking about?” someone asked, but the horror had set it, and Riddle’s face lit up like an evil Christmas tree.

“Yes, but _that_ one thing was so _personal_ , so full of the essence of who you are, an intense and deep part of you, that it was enough, just _enough_ for me to create a link. And now, with Ginny’s life powering me, as of this moment, I can do the same to you.” Riddle laughed.

Harry’s mind began to swim into dizziness, his eyesight blurred, his knees wobbling dangerously, until he finally fell down on his hands.

“HARRY!”

“Don’t worry. You’ll soon join you Mudblood mother.” Riddle chuckled.

His heart began to slow down, his body turned numb, and it was cold, so cold, why couldn’t he stay warm? It was too painful, too human, he couldn’t take it.

“Stop… him…” Harry croaked as several hands were upon him, trying to position him upright, but he was too weak, he just fell backwards in their grip. With one last look he saw their crying and shaken faces above him, and he wanted to reach out, say so many things that he never managed to. “I’m… so –” he groaned, but what he had to say perished on his lips, as the life ran out from him.

“No. NO!” Neville screeched, but it was already too late.

Harry Potter was now dead to the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END
> 
>  
> 
> Kidding!
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you didn't all believe that I would forget about you, especially during the holidays. Right now, it's still Christmas Eve at the time and place where I'm writing (i.e. my home, I don't go out much), so allow me to wish you the best and hope that you will have only happiness and health in the coming year. As it stands, this particular chapter comes as a sort of gift.
> 
> Speaking of, it was terrifyingly easy to write the first part where everyone is still feeling the shock of having Hermione being ripped apart from them, because they were all feeling all over the place and it's quite a natural response to such trauma. And the way they handle it felt right to me, each with their own way of dealing with it.
> 
> Lockhart was an interesting bit I added here, because I felt that this was the end of his story as a whole. He comes into this book as you all know him, is this secondary background character that doesn't do a whole lot, except be annoying and useless more and more, until finally he turns villain and that is ultimately his greatest sin, that even in the face of four exceptional young wizards he thought himself, in his pride, far superior to them, and it brought his death by his own hand. That was his arc, that pride and greed lead nowhere. And you also don't threaten Harry and co. without at least 5 different exit strategies, lol. At least Hannah got her Elemental powers out of it, finally! And don't look at me like that, you knew it was coming, just not when. More importantly, there is the 'why' to be revealed along the way, which is certainly more interesting.
> 
> And at last, at the confrontation with Riddle, right before the basilisk appears, Harry's life force had been taken over and he collapses. Normally, Riddle couldn't do that to Harry because the connection was too frail, but thanks to Ginny, who had the thing take over her and was now giving it energy, Riddle was strong enough to connect to Harry, the only one other person who wrote in the diary and because of the boy's sharing of vulnerability and emotion Riddle's able to do it to him.
> 
> Until next time (yes, there is obviously a next time), after the New Year, where we come to the conclusion of the second book. Love you all, and have a safe and fun holiday.


	26. The Basilisk Venom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's life hangs in balance along with Ginny's, Hermione's and everyone else's in the castle, as Draco, Hannah and Neville desperately try to save everyone from Riddle's ultimate weapon.

            Nothingness was the absence of matter, of light and everything people perceive as real. But it also meant the absence of darkness, because nothingness meant the absence of _everything_.

            Harry couldn’t process that, his mind too human to conceive the existence of nonexistence, if that was even a thing, so he conjured up his own vision of nothingness, a dark world with nothing, infinite in all regards, cold and empty.

            He stood up on what he envisioned as the ground, but it was more of the same nothingness that stretched out forever, unmoving, inescapable. He could see himself fine, but he was the only being there. Was this the afterlife? Is this what fate awaited every dead person?

            Sounds started to come from… well, _somewhere_ , but they sounded like they came from _nowhere_ at the same time. Whispers, shouts, all indescribable, words that had no meaning, words that held secrets and lies and truths that were never to be spoken, different voices and languages, different people that Harry had never met in his life, but they all sounded _familiar_ to him, like they were his close family, or something more.

            He looked around, but the darkness was the same in every direction. Was he even moving around? His slightly blurred vision as he turned around frantically said that he did, but his surroundings never changed, never wavered from their fixed existence. He was trapped, unable to go further, even though he could walk just fine. He could go around forever and it wouldn’t matter. Was this his own personal hell? To walk through some space in between for all eternity? And what about his friends, his family? Did they miss him? How long has he been like this? Did they die as well in all the time that he was here? Was his job to find them?

            “You’re only half right, I’m afraid.” someone spoke with a familiar voice.

            Harry turned around, trying to fire a spell, but his magic failed him. Good thing even, because the person that spoke was _him_. But something in his somehow still functioning brain told him that it wasn’t a reflection, but an impostor.

            “R.” Harry breathed, voice perfectly fine, unlike how he thought it would be.

            “Hello, Harry.” R smiled faintly.

            “How did you get here? Did you die as well?” Harry swallowed, and why was his body still producing fluids if he died? Unless…

            “You’re as alive as I am. For the moment, at the very least. And I’m not here, not really.” they said as they looked around. “I’m just a projection of my mind, a part of it, more like it, inside of yours.”

            “Did not know you could do that.” Harry blinked.

            “Neither did I, until now. I’m currently preoccupied with other things, but it seems I left a part of myself with you, in case of emergencies. I did not know it would act as such, but here we are. What you’re seeing is me, of course, and this is happening in real time, but your mind processed my presence by placing me in the form in which you know me as.” R explained.

            “I thought I knew what you looked like really.” Harry frowned.

            “Like I said, your mind felt the presence of _R_ , and thus changed my appearance to suit it.”

            “What is this place?” Harry asked.

            “Well, I suppose you’ll have to ask who made it.” R continued.

            “Riddle.” Harry agreed. “He did something to me, made me collapse. I can feel him.” he realised. “I can feel him draining my power as we speak.”

            “He is.” R spoke solemnly. “You used his diary and formed a connection to it, allowing him to do this to you. And now he will return, unless you stop him.”

            “How?” Harry exploded. “How can I do anything from here? I’m powerless!”

            “You’re never powerless, Harry.” R argued. “You’re the last person to _be_ powerless. But I would get out of here while I could, if I were you. If not, you will _die_.”

 

            He was pale and unmoving, _and so cold, too cold_ … He couldn’t warm him up, he wouldn’t _wake_ up, and there was nothing to be done, nothing that could bring him back.

            _Riddle_.

            “What did you do to him?” Neville gritted his teeth, still clinging to Harry’s lifeless form.

            “I told you, he gave a part of himself to me.” Riddle smiled coldly. “Just enough so that I can take his life force as well. Ginny could bring me back, of course, but _Harry_ … now, Harry is special. He has power I have only witnessed in myself.”

            “He is far more powerful than you are, Riddle!” Draco shouted through tears, holding Harry’s head delicately. “Fifty years from your time, he fought you and utterly decimated you, with a simple touch!”

            “And now I decimated him by simply waving my hand!” Riddle gleefully said. “The most powerful young sorcerer in the world, and I took him out with a _thought_!”

            “Shut the fuck up, you evil little _bitch_!” Hannah spat, throwing her hand out and making a large portion of the floor in front of Riddle fly towards him at high speeds. Unfortunately, it went right _through_ him.

            “Charming, but I’m not here yet. If I was, that would’ve been your final act.” Riddle laughed. “Of course, I do not wish to spill blood as pure as yours, Ginny was enough of a waste as it was. You three are descended from powerful bloodlines, especially you, _cousin_.” he eyed Draco, who went as still as stone.

            “There’s enough distance between us that we’re not even related anymore. Besides, your blood is nowhere _near_ as pure as mine.” Draco regained his sneer, defying death. “You see, my father wasn’t a _Muggle_.”

            It was the worst thing to say to the memory of a sixteen-year old Voldemort, as his face turned dark and his features shifted into an ugly version of a frown. But it didn’t matter to them, their friend was gone, and the threat of the Dark Lord returning was looming over their heads.

            “Very well. You have all made your choice. Let us see how you match against Salazar Slytherin’s _power_!” he intoned, turning to the giant statue behind them. “ _Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four_!” he spoke in what Neville guessed was Parselmouth.

            The stone lips on the statue began to open, a grating sound of marble on marble, and then a low hiss echoed through the vast room, and then they realised in just how much danger they were.

            “Longbottom, now!” Draco shouted, as he enacted their distraction that they planned. Draco used some of the water to make it into a huge ice ball, and then Neville shot a fireball at it, the resulting explosion of ice, water and steam obscured Riddle’s vision as well as the oncoming basilisk’s just enough that the three fighters ran in different directions around the Chamber.

            “ _Kill them_!” Riddle hissed again, and Neville didn’t need to speak snake language to know that it wasn’t good for them.

            A huge thud rattled their bones, as the basilisk finally made its appearance. Neville was hidden behind a column, Draco behind one of the stone snakes on the walls, and Hannah was nowhere to be seen, lost in the confusion.

            “It’s no use!” Riddle taunted them. “The basilisk will find you eventually, and all your fighting will be for nothing! One look and you’re _dead_!”

            The giant serpent moved _slowly_ , agonizingly so, hissing lowly as it slithered on the dank floor, searching for its prey. Neville’s heart beat so loudly it was audible, and the absolute terror of the world’s most dangerous creature being a few metres behind his head was enough to send him trembling.

            Harry would’ve had a plan, he would’ve known what to do. He told them that looking at the thing would kill them, so they had to rely on their other senses. Being permanently blind was not an option, but if they could time it right, open their eyes when they knew it wasn’t in front of them, they could see what was around, then close their eyes and reassess. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the only chance they had.

            Neville closed his eyes and listened, as the sounds of the basilisk only grew in intensity, hissing louder and louder. For a moment, he was afraid that it was standing next to him, waiting for him to open his eyes and die on the spot, and if he didn’t it would bite him in two. But he knew it wasn’t near him, just behind, still searching around where they were before. This couldn’t last long, so they had to do something.

            Neville opened his eyes and cast a look at Draco, who did the same thing. They nodded at the same time, gathering their strength and their courage. Harry was out and they had to do something.

            Draco peered slightly over the statue, before using his hand to draw out a huge icicle out of the water and launch it at the basilisk with speed. It collided painfully with the creature, who let out a shout of surprise and anguish, before Neville shot blindly a continuous flame at it, running with Draco towards the centre of the aisle. In the next second, Hannah appeared from the _ground_ , dragging an entire wall of stone and rock with her, pushing it into the serpent with a shout, as it flew in the opposite direction, towards the entrance, eventually colliding with the wall in a cacophony of sounds.

            Two seconds of silence, before the rubble exploded once more, and the basilisk came at them with the _speed_ of an oncoming truck on the highway, slithering towards them with way more power and velocity than it should have.

            Neville barely had time to react, conjuring more flames to stop the oncoming promise of death and obscure their vision. The basilisk wailed and went sideways in the blink of an eye, into a nearby pipe. For a moment, they just stood there with laboured breaths, but the sounds of the creature coming from a pipe _directly_ next to them could be heard.

            Hannah, _really_ into her newfound powers thankfully, drew a platform around them and raised it immediately to the celling, as the basilisk, unharmed, bit into the stone. It recovered quickly and circled around it, climbing to the three meals. Hannah then cut off the top part of the platform and pushed it away, as she made the column hit the celling, trying to crush the basilisk’s head. But the stone just exploded around it, and their floating platform was too slow for the recuperating creature, who fell on the ground and chased after them, climbing on one of the support columns and _jumping_ towards them.

            Draco had been busy this whole time, as he had drawn water to the sides of the room, before freezing everything behind them in the top half of the Chamber, with the basilisk caught mid-flight.

            Hannah then veered the platform downwards and back from where they started, helped along by Neville’s flames, propelling the rock. The ice started to vibrate, as the frozen basilisk was getting free.

            “Oh, no you don’t!” Hannah spat as they reached their original starting point and made a whole block of the celling _collapse_ on the basilisk, and then kept it there, holding it down. “It’s too strong!” she shouted, hands trembling from the effort.

            Draco and Neville both roared and threw their powers at the basilisk, trying to burn and freeze it at the same time.

            “Such raw power!” Riddle taunted them. “I daresay you could’ve been successful, if not for the fact that the skin of a basilisk is the strongest material on Earth!”

            As if by command, the serpent broke free with a terrifying roar, and started to make its way through clouds of smoke to them. They were done for, there was nowhere to run, nowhere left to hide…

            But then a flash of something orange and red above them, a cry that instilled courage and strength in their hearts, as Fawkes the phoenix appeared out of nowhere and _attacked_ the basilisk. The three stood there, as the bird distracted the basilisk and turned its gaze towards its new enemy, but even though it was fast, Fawkes was faster, zapping around, confusing it, before _scratching its eyes out_.

            “No!” Riddle shouted as the basilisk screeched in pain. “Away with you, bloody bird!”

            But that was it. Fawkes just gave them a fighting chance. Now they could face it without the peril of dying if they looked at it.

 

            “They’re fighting bravely out there.” R remarked.

            “They need my help.” Harry paced around, looking for some indication on how to escape. “They’re strong, but that thing is nearly indestructible, I can use my powers to break it from the inside!”

            “Then you need to return.” R simply said.

            “How?!” Harry spat, turning around to the other presence. “Riddle has gotten inside of my head, only because I was _stupid_ enough to write in that diary that I have a crush on Neville!”

            “Is it stupid to love someone?” R raised an eyebrow.

            “It’s what’s gotten me into this situation in the first place!” Harry argued.

            “And it’s what’s going to get you out.” R replied.

            “You and bloody Dumbledore with ‘love is the greatest power of all’… well me being a human being and caring for others isn’t going to – aghhh!” Harry stopped mid-rant, as he felt a stinging pain in his chest. “My magic!” he groaned, trying to fight through the pain. “Fucker is sapping me of it!” he gritted.

            “Not your magic per se, even he is not that powerful. He is draining your life force, though, which is tied to your magic.” R pointed out unhelpfully.

            “Bloody brilliant, at the very most I’ll just die here, not be rendered powerless!” Harry barked out a cold laugh, gripping his chest. “Why do I get myself into these things?” he complained.

            “Because this is what you’re meant to be doing, helping people, protecting them.” R said with a hopeful tone, the first time Harry had ever heard the person say anything with a degree of emotion.

            “What good am I to anyone if I can’t even protect myself, R?” Harry groaned, the pain getting stronger.

            “I did not say you were alone.” R replied.

 

            Fawkes disappeared out of view, leaving behind a bloody basilisk, with red holes for eyes, as it thrashed around, trying to overcome its permanent blindness.

            “Looks like your pet is no longer a threat!” Hannah taunted Riddle back.

            “Its venom is still deadly, and it can still _hear_!” Riddle smiled dangerously, as the basilisk recovered and went after them.

            “Well, it can listen to this!” Neville had enough and took out his phone, playing the rooster sound. But it did nothing to the thing, as it still threatened to eat them alive. “Shit…” Neville swore and dodged the bite, as Riddle laughed maniacally.

            “I think it has to be a real one, Longbottom!” Draco shouted as he threw torrents of water at the basilisk, pushing it to the side of the room.

            “ _You think_?!” Neville shouted right back, launching himself precariously in the air with flames from his feet, while shooting exploding fireballs at the serpent.

            “WILL YOU TWO KNOCK IT OFF AND KILL THE FUCKING THING!” Hannah roared as she made sets of two blocks from the ground hit the snake from both sides continuously as Neville and Draco pushed it back.

            The basilisk had enough and swiped its tail, hitting Draco and sending him flying in the air, towards Harry, landing somewhere near, unconscious.

            “Malfoy!” Hannah shouted, before roaring and using her powers to drag projectile rocks from the walls to launch at the basilisk, and Neville drew his hands together to form a _huge_ flame, so intense it could melt a person’s skin. But the basilisk, even though it was getting the brunt of their attacks, was seemingly _still_ unhurt. Fawkes scratched its eyes out with claws, but their Elemental powers were not doing _anything_.

            “It’s no use, it’s too durable! Riddle must be using Harry’s power to keep it unharmed!” Neville realised, intensifying his attacks with a shout.

            The basilisk slithered across the room with speed and tried to bite Hannah, but the girl just tossed a part of the floor into the open mouth, propelled herself upwards with a platform, then conjured stone hands from the ground that held a struggling beast down, as Neville roared like a lion and used both hand and his _mouth_ to throw funnels of concentrated flames at the beast.

            Unfortunately, the basilisk broke free and tried to go for Hannah, who was continuing to impress with her new-found powers, and produced a huge stone hammer that she used to continuously badger the snake’s head in, without any visible result. It kept coming at her, even as Neville thought to use the idea of Elemental projected hands and tried grasping at their enemy with ethereal fingers of fire.

            “Why! Won’t!” the blonde yelled, retreating as she struck and the basilisk wouldn’t give up. “You!’ DIE!” she exclaimed, hitting one final time so hard the stone shattered in front of her, but the snake kept coming.

            It lunged at her again, but this time, Hannah dodged to the side, and at the same time opened a hole in the wall in which the creature jumped into, then closed it, holding her hand in front of it, using all her might to keep it there. Muffled screeches could be heard and cracks from the wall kept intensifying, even as Hannah crushed it with the earth, the basilisk _still_ wouldn’t let up, and eventually broke out of its prison.

            This time, an infuriated Neville gathered up all his wrath that he had for the last few months at this monster and summoned something he hadn’t thought to use, something Dark and powerful. Fiendfyre exploded from his entire body, as a very large lion started battling with the thing.

            The very air seemed to be melting, but the serpent wasn’t deterred, moved by unseen forces that kept it safe from harm; not even the most powerful fire on the planet seemed to affect it, merely stand in its way, as the lion tried clawing at it, pushing it back through a column, pushing it in the wall then the ground, trying to bite the impenetrable skin.

            Hannah used parts of the column as a jackhammer, dropping it and raising it at fast intervals on the snake, while Neville kept fuelling the Fiendfyre, struggling to stay upright.

            “Hannah…” he said coarsely. “I can’t keep this up much longer! It’s too much!” the boy warned, his hands shaking dangerously.

            “Don’t give up on me, Nev!” Hannah cried, gathering more chunks and sending them up and downwards on the basilisk, but even she had her voice wavering and her sweat visible from the effort.

            Draco came to, and saw that the basilisk was getting beat down, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long, and his friends couldn’t do this forever. No, he had to try something else, so he ran over to Harry, barely keeping himself upright and not managing to slip on the watery floor.

            “Potter!” he shook him. “Potter, come on, stop being so dramatic, you’re bloody fine, wake up!” he shouted.

            “He won’t!” Riddle sneered.

            “Shut up!” Draco replied back instantly. “You’re nothing more than a murderous lunatic with daddy issues, you prick!”

            “I am the Dark Lord, you’re the one that’s nothing more than a _weak_ fool at my feet!” Riddle spat.

            “You know _nothing_ of my power.” Draco’s voice turned strange.

 

            “I can’t…” Harry gasped and breathed heavily as the pain got in his whole body. “I can’t do anything, I’m trapped, and they’re dying!” he cried.

            “You can save them, Harry!” R said.

            “ENOUGH!” he shouted. “Enough with the cryptic nonsense, I’m _begging_ you, do something! Help them!”

            “I can’t do that, Harry. I’m not even here.” R shook their head. “But you _can_.”

            “No, no I can’t!” he yelled in pain. “He’s too strong, he’s always too strong, and I can’t do anything!” he cried.

 

            “And you know nothing of _mine_!” Riddle sneered to Draco. “Behold!” he raised his arms, and the basilisk broke free of the attacks, as the Fiendfyre disappeared into nothing, and slithered to the front of the room, and started _spewing_ something, a dark and thick substance, but with the force and speed of bullets, coming out in torrents, cutting through stone and marble deep.

            “Watch out, it’s its venom!” Neville warned them, barely dodging a hit.

            “How’s it doing that?” Hannah shouted in terror, as the basilisk turned to her and nearly hit her with full force, but she raised a protective wall and a platform, jumping over the serpent’s head, dropping another block on it along the way.

            “He’s enhancing it somehow!” Neville revealed, pushing back the gust of venom with his flames, the smell sickening him greatly, before flying off to the left.

            The basilisk followed, somehow keenly aware of where they were, and kept trying to bite them or throw more venom at them. They dodged, left and right, ran or flew in opposite directions from it, but it followed, through columns, walls, firewalls and explosions, undeterred in its pursuit, getting stronger by the second, while they were getting more and more exhausted. At this rate, the entire room would be covered in venom. One touch and they were dead.

            “Harry, come on! Fight this!” Draco watched in horror as his friends were on the verge of being killed, barely missing the deadly hits sent their way. “You can do this, I _know_ you can!” he cried at the deathly still form of his friend.

            There was no hope, Riddle was laughing maniacally, Hannah and Neville were barely keeping up with the basilisk, Harry was getting colder by the second, Ginny was as well by the looks of it, and Draco couldn’t do anything but watch, couldn’t help either of them. They were going to die down here, just like Lockhart, another corpse in the Chamber of Secrets.

            And Riddle would get out, join his older self, bring back the Dark Lord, with the untold power of the Boy-Who-Lived, and would terrorize the world again, kill millions, torture even more…

            Draco couldn’t accept that. Couldn’t grasp the concept of such a world in which darkness and fear ran rampant and his friends were gone. He was a wizard, dammit, and not just any wizard, but one with a strong connection to magic, so strong he didn’t need a wand, so strong he had the power to control an element, like the druids of old.

            Hermione told him once that Water was the element of change, it could bring devastation, floods, tsunamis, it corroded everything in time. But it was also beneficial, it was necessary for survival, it could be used for good. And destruction wasn’t what Draco needed to do now, that didn’t work. No, he had to do something else, something _more_ with his power.

            He drew the water from around him and put it around his hands, before placing them on Harry’s face. He had the power of the magic of old, and if Harry taught him anything, was that magic could be used in _all sorts_ of ways.

            “I’m not going to let you take a bloody nap while the rest of us protect your arse, Potter, so when I say you have to wake you, _you will bloody wake the fuck up_!” Draco intoned, _pushing_ his power into his hands and into Harry, thinking only to save him, restore him to his normal self, anything it took, just so that it happened.

 

            Harry gasped once more as the pain suddenly disappeared, like it wasn’t really there in the first place, just like that, _gone_.

            “What… What happened?” he caught his breath. “Draco.” he realised, looking at R. “He did something, I don’t know what, but he somehow stopped the pain.”

            “He’s realised that he can do much more than just destroy with his Elemental powers. Water can be used to heal.” R explained on an even tone.

            “Yeah, but it’s much more than that, I feel…” Harry inspected himself. “I feel stronger, like he’s…” his eyes went wide as saucers at the realisation. “Like he’s putting _magic_ inside of me! How is that even possible?” he asked R.

            “Like yourself, your friends are much stronger than they appear, able to do things others can only do little of.” R replied.

            “But it will kill him!” Harry cried. “You said it yourself, you can’t separate your magic from your life force, and he will _die_ if he continues!”

            “That is a choice he knowingly made, to save you, so that you can save them.” R said.

            “How can I save them if they die?” Harry looked distraught. “No, there must be some way to get out of here without killing Draco in the process!”

            “There is.” R said.

            “How?” Harry urged them.

            “Touch the magic. Find the Dragon within!” R intoned.

 

            Riddle gasped as Draco used his powers on Harry, giving the boy some colour in his cheeks.

            “What are you –?” Riddle demanded, before realising what the blond was doing. “NO!” he shouted.

            “Eat my arse, pisshead!” Draco didn’t even spare a glance at the ghostly figure, too busy saving Harry.

            “Stop him!” Riddle ordered the basilisk in English. “Stop the prat! Stop him now!” he continued, as the serpent heeded his commands and stopped going after Neville and Hannah and made a beeline for Draco, roaring dangerously.

            “Mates, keep him off me!” Draco whined.

            “Kill him!” Riddle ordered as the basilisk was two seconds away from eating Draco and Harry.

            “THE HELL YOU ARE!” Hannah exclaimed and produced a wall right in front of the creature, sending it back as she pushed it with force to the entrance, along with the serpent, as she hurried with Neville towards their friends. “Get back! All of you!” she warned them, as the basilisk recovered.

            Draco whipped his head slightly, still concentrating on helping Harry, as a huge ice platform formed around them and Ginny, before they were sent to the base of the statue of Salazar Slytherin.

            Hannah gripped her hands into something invisible, her whole body shaking. The next second, it wasn’t her whole body that shook, but the _entire_ Chamber. A low rumble was heard above them, growing louder exponentially by the nanosecond, as the basilisk stood up and tried to move, but Hannah had enough of it, and with a shout, she drew her hands down.

            The entire celling collapsed, enormous pieces of it falling down with the sound of a thousand avalanches, doubling the height of the room, as the rubble fell down with a thunderous and deafening sound on top of the giant snake, before settling in a dusty cloud that permeated the air, the sound ringing in everyone’s ears.

            “I need your help!” Draco shouted after it stopped, shaking as he tried to wake up Harry. Hannah rushed towards them and Neville looked frantically between Draco and the raven-haired boy, not knowing what to do.

            “What do you need?” Hannah asked, knowing that they only bought themselves some time to get Harry, and that if they failed, they were done for. She and Neville were beyond tired, and Draco looked paler than usual. If they didn’t get Harry now, it was all over.

            “Just grab me and I’ll do the rest!” Draco commanded, as the both of them complied, gasping as they did, feeling their energy being drawn into Harry.

            “It won’t do you any good!” Riddle tried to demoralise them. “All you’re doing is prolonging the inevitable, any power you give that boy will only flow back into me, and in turn into my basilisk, making us stronger! You will all die here, knowing you failed miserably, all because you couldn’t mind your own business!” he laughed as the basilisk was trying to come out from under the rubble. Any second now, it would escape and kill them.

            “Come on, _work_!” Draco gritted.

 

            “They’re doing something.” Harry felt it, but he also felt something else. “Blast, the pain is coming back, it’s no use!” he blew a deep breath.

            “They’re throwing you a lifeline. Grasp it!” R shouted.

            “I don’t know…” Harry started.

            “You do! You can feel it! Not the magic itself, that’s just the rope you pull, but the connection between you all!” R interrupted him.

 

            “It’s coming back!” Hannah warned them as the rubble was shaking and a string of hisses was heard from underneath. “Malfoy, whatever you’re doing is not working!”

            “You try pulling magic from yourself and others into someone else in these conditions!” Draco snapped back. “I need just a little more time!”

            “We don’t have more time!” Hannah shouted, as the rumbling got louder.

            “Harry!” Neville used his other hand to cup the boy’s face. “Harry come back to us!”

 

            “Is that…” Harry said, before the pain came back in full force, even more intense this time, as he collapsed to his knees, grasping at himself, trying to claw out his own heart to stop it from hurting so much. “AGH!”

            “Fight it, Harry!” R urged him.

            “I can’t, I was right, he’s too strong!” Harry shouted through the throbbing pain in his entire body, every cell on fire, screaming for an end. “Make it stop, please make it stop!”

 

            “Harry, I know you can do it!” Neville let tears fall from his face. “You’re the strongest, smartest, bravest person I know! If there is anyone that can break this curse, it’s you! I know it is!” he caressed the cold cheek with his thumb. “Come back to me! We need you! I _need you_!” he sobbed as Riddle laughed and the basilisk’s tail broke out from under the rubble.

 

            Harry heard Neville crying out for him, but he couldn’t do anything to help him, all he could think about was the pain in his whole being and Riddle taking everything he was out of him.

            He was going to die there. They were going to die there. Hannah would never argue about what show they will be watching, or sneak him extra snacks when no one was looking because he had a huge craving for the stuff, Draco would never laugh at him when he did something stupid or be there for him when he needed help, Hermione would wake up and never roll her eyes at his antics and admonish him for being impulsive or take care of him when he wasn’t at his best, study with him and tell the most creative of jokes, and Neville will never be there for him when he was lost, in need of guidance, would never hug him when he needed it, never quip with him to keep him on his toes, never stand strong when he needed someone to do it for him. He was going to lose all of these things.

            It was at that moment that the pain disappeared again, only this time, Harry felt something else. Not his friends giving him their strength, not even his own magic, but something deeper inside of him, an entire being that he never knew was there, something old and _gigantic_ in power. It was at the same time _him_ , but not really, like it was something separated from the whole that made up his existence, but now it clicked back in place.

            His hands started glowing in front of him, a white light that vibrated more and more, restoring him beyond what he was before, sending sparks down his nerves, in his blood and his brain.

            “What…?” Harry breathed, not knowing what this all meant, facing R, who had a small smile on their face as they approached.

            “See, Harry? Love is indeed the most powerful force there is.” R chuckled.

            “I don’t understand, how…?” Harry stammered.

            “You will.” R intoned, crouching down to Harry’s face, and the boy stared at the reflection of himself, for the first time unafraid of this strange person. “In due time. Now…”

 

            “Harry, please!” Neville cried desperately.

            “It’s too late!” Hannah cried as well, as Draco couldn’t continue any longer and finally stopped feeding Harry energy and gave out a shout of exhaustion, before looking in his friends’ eyes with horror.

            “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t…” he tried to find the words.

            “It’s okay, it’s okay Draco.” Hannah said, wiping a tear from the blond’s dirty cheek, sniffling. “You did your best.”

            “And now you will see that any who cross my path will be destroyed, _just_ like you are going to be!” Riddle laughed coldly at them.

            They all looked at each other, crying silently, as they came to the realisation that they were going to see each other for the last time. The basilisk broke free entirely, and screeched with a high-pitched roar, promising their painful death, before lunging towards them, as the three cuddled protectively around each other, and Ginny and Harry, closing their eyes.

 

            “ **Awaken, Guardian**!” R spoke with an otherworldly voice that was very familiar to Harry, as they cupped his face, eyes shining with the same bright light as Harry’s, before the raven-haired boy’s eyes did the same, and the world around them shook furiously, with a vibrating sound.

 

            Light flooded the dark room, so bright it could blind someone, magic exploding with a sound of a billion bombs going off at the same time. Power was crackling through the air, electrifying it, and it was all coming from one single source, one single person.

            Hannah, Neville and Draco opened their eyes cautiously, surprised to see that they were alive. Harry was no longer in their arms, but he was standing in front of them, hand raised, furious look on his face, shining brightly.

            As the light started to fade, they saw the basilisk frozen, mouth open, but unable to move a single centimetre, trapped in Harry’s power completely. Riddle gave no words, too shocked to see the boy upright, and fighting back no less.

            “Harry?” Neville could not believe his eyes.

            “ **You have terrorised this school long enough**.” Harry spoke in an otherworldly voice, deeper than Neville’s from a year before when fighting Quirrell, but just as deadly and ancient, if not even more so. He pushed back the creature in his hold without so much as a movement, sending it with the speed of sound towards the entrance, hitting it _hard_ against the rubble. In its wake, what remained of the Chamber started to repair itself almost immediately, destruction and venom disappearing instantly, as if Harry’s mere presence was healing.

            “ _Wow_.” Draco gaped.

            Harry then turned his attention to the Sorting Hat that Fawkes dropped off earlier, now aware of its purpose for being there. Something stared sparkling from the interior of the Hat, materialising a second later as what appeared to be a dagger, sharpened to cut through anything. But it wasn’t all that was there.

            Harry pulled it with his hand in the air, and the object zoomed into his open palm in the next second. It was nearly as tall as him, a staff made out of strong metal, the middle a gleaming black with runes carved in a single line, ending at the bottom with a circular pad, a bit wider than the handle, from which the symmetrical small blade protruded, with slightly jagged edges. At the top, coming out from another circular pad, was the metal carving of a golden dragon, whose tail circled around the small column it was sitting on, ending with the dragon facing out with its wings raised over his head straight up, as if it was just before taking flight. It was a bit unnatural how straight it stood, but it was obviously deliberate to continue the elongation of the staff itself.

            Harry’s clothes started to change, his boots were now slimmer and up to his knees, armed with greaves on the front of his shins, his dragon leather armour shifted into a bulkier form, no longer just a simple piece, but with peaks and valleys covering the vulnerable parts of him, exposing nothing, chest slightly protruding along with segments that covered the rest of the torso, pants and sleeves turning the same, vambraces on each forearm with the same intricate and complicated detail as on the greaves, ending with metal gloves that only covered the back of the hand, and a sort of cape appeared from his shoulders, like it bled from the material itself, reaching down to his ankles, not touching the floor. The colour scheme changed, what was once black and nothing else now shifted into a predominantly white colour, accented with black and gold on everything.

            “What the fuck?” Hannah breathed in absolute confusion. “Outfit change, really?” she felt the need to add.

            Harry didn’t say anything, merely started floating in the air, holding the staff behind him, ready, and his cape bellowed slightly from an invisible wind, and if Neville didn’t know any better, he would’ve said that Harry was doing that one on purpose, emulating Snape.

            “DESTROY THE BOY!” Riddle finally found his voice, terrified of this strange Harry with battle armour on.

            The basilisk was trying to rear its ugly head back again, but it was the worst move it could’ve possibly done. It should have run away in fear, hide for the rest of its life, because this Harry was not playing games anymore.

            Harry whipped the staff around, _once_ , and sent the basilisk flying to the side, then flipped it again, sending it into the opposite wall. He then extended his limbs out, and something fell from his arms and legs, four bracelets with protruding rectangles, each with an LED indicator.

            “You’re kidding… He had these on _the entire time_?” Draco gasped.

            Harry then _zoomed_ at terrifying, not fit for humans speeds towards the basilisk, like an airplane engine flied off the ground, and then kept using the staff to fly the creature around, bashing its brains in for a while, like a grotesque match of ping-pong, before starting to send energy blasts towards it, and those looked like they did _damage_ , possibly because they were stronger than the previous attacks and because the basilisk was no longer receiving Harry’s power.

            The boy then continued his assault, sending it across the room through a column or a statute that repaired itself afterwards, before sending a blast of pure energy into it, then repeating the process, all the while the basilisk screamed for dear life.

            “ _No… Please… No more…_ ” it screeched.

            “ **No more**?” Harry taunted it in the same voice as before, suspending the serpent in the air with his free hand, and this is where the rest of the gang present realised that all joking aside about the posturizing, Harry was out for _blood_. “ **You are not deserving of mercy**.” he said with anger, before resuming his attacks at incredible speeds, as the creature screeched and his friends cheered him on, while Riddle could only shout commands that could not be heeded.

            Harry finally dropped the snake on the ground, and it looked hurt beyond recognition, trying its hardest to slither away from his destroyer, but it no longer possessed the same speed as before, and its body, broken and bloody as it was, couldn’t help it move fast enough.

            “ **Let’s see how you like the taste of your own venom**!” Harry intoned, as he landed in front of it and used the blade part of the staff to cut into the basilisk’s skull through the roof of its mouth, tearing open through the venom glands above the upper teeth, as it gave a final screech of pain, before going absolutely silent a few seconds later. Harry retracted the staff with a disgusting, squelching sound, before turning around and facing Riddle.

            “No, this isn’t happening!” the ghostly figure exclaimed.

            “It is.” Harry regained his normal voice after he flew over to where the memory of Voldemort stood the entire time. “It’s over for you, _Tom_. You failed.” he declared, triumphantly.

            “Not quite, Potter!” Riddle spat, unnerved by the use of his first name. “Ginny Weasley is nearly gone, and while I may not have access to your power, once she is dead and I’m back you will feel my wrath!”

            “Your older counterpart couldn’t _touch_ me without burning down, how do you think you will fare?” Harry taunted him. “Besides, you won’t be coming back. Not this time, Tom.” he replied and made the diary fly from Ginny’s grasp and at his feet. “I did promise you the next time we will face that I will make you sorry for ever existing.” Harry sneered.

            “Stop! NO!” Riddle tried, but Harry was quicker, and he opened the pages and stabbed them with the blade of the staff.

            Riddle started crying in pain, parts of him burning out into a bright light, as the diary shot out a substance that looked like dark blood from the pages. Harry twisted the blade, enjoying the way it was hurting the memory of Voldemort, and how it was destroying it at the same time. Finally deciding it was enough, he took out the blade, closed the diary, then plunged it back it with force for good measure, as the screams turned blood-curling, and after a few seconds, Riddle vanished in an explosion of white light, disappearing forever, the memory of Voldemort gone.

            Harry breathed out a sigh of relief. It was over, finally. His clothes went back to normal, and his staff stopped shining the runes, as his friends were running over to him.

 

            “Holy crap, how did you do that?” Hannah exclaimed.

            “I don’t know, I just did it.” Harry breathed, a smile breaking on his own. “I’m so happy to see you!” he hugged them.

            “Are you okay?” Neville asked after they all parted.

            “I’m fine, not a scratch on me, really.” Harry said.

            “Okay, what was with the outfit?” Draco had to ask, barely containing his laughter.

            “Came with this, I reckon.” Harry inspected the staff.

            He couldn’t give it much thought, however, because a gasp from somewhere behind the three others could be heard.

            “Ginny!” he shouted, running towards the poor girl. “Ginny, are you alright?” he inspected her, setting down the staff.

            “Harry, I’m so sorry!” she finally said after a few seconds. “It was me! I opened the Chamber of Secrets, I made the basilisk…” she said instead.

            “We know.” Hannah cut her off, placing a hand on her shoulder. “But it wasn’t you, Ginny, it was Voldemort, with his diary, he was making you do all of those things!” she argued. “Not you, it wasn’t your decision to hurt those people.”

            “No, it was father’s.” Draco spoke. “He planted that diary with you back in Diagon Alley last summer; that’s why he was there, to find someone to take the diary into the school!” he repeated his words from before they ventured in this place.

            “He’s not going to be happy if he finds out you thwarted his plans.” Neville said as Hannah helped up a trembling Ginny.

            “He’s not going to find out.” Draco huffed dismissively. “He doesn’t even know I’ve left the Slytherin dorm for the Room, why would he think I would’ve gone down in the Chamber of Secrets?”

            “You know, you’re awfully good at lying to people who aren’t us.” Harry remarked as Hannah raised a platform on the ground, and the boy took the remains of the diary, the Hat and his staff.

            “Well, other people don’t _know_ me, so it’s fairly easy.” Draco responded.

            “What do we do about…?” Neville swallowed heavily once they reached the exit and saw Lockhart’s corpse. Ginny looked away pointedly, while the others stared at their former Professor.

            “This is what, _two_ dead Defence teachers in a row? Careful with the next one, Harry.” Draco tutted.

            “Not funny.” Neville elbowed him.

            “I just pulled him out from death itself, let me _joke_ for once!”

            “Hide him.” Harry decided, speaking over them. “He died of his own wand, technically, but since I cast the protection shield that send him flying into the bedrock and snapped his neck…”

            “Manslaughter.” Hannah agreed. “And it was completely in self-defence, but it still is your fault.” she nodded.

            “It’s not Harry’s fault that Lockhart died!” Neville defended the boy.

            “Yeah, it is.” Harry disagreed. “I didn’t actually kill him, but it was my fault. I don’t feel guilty, though, for what it’s worth.” he said, no longer at war with his own mind for what happened. Not after everything.

            “Leave him here.” Ginny spoke with a much surer voice than before. “He was a fraud, a liar and a cheat, and he wanted to hurt you. Hide him in here, no one will think to find him. Trust me.”

            “Okay, then.” Hannah sighed and moved her free hand to make the ground underneath Lockhart’s body open up into a man-sized hole that swallowed him up entirely, before moving her hand again and closing it, like it never opened up in the first place. Gilderoy Lockhart had found his final resting place, undignified and hidden from the eyes of the world forever.

            “You’re getting awfully good at this.” Harry remarked as she broke the platform into five smaller once for each of them, and made them ascend through the pipe.

 

            Back at the top, Harry and co. were met by a very unhappy Myrtle, who looked at the boy with sorrow, as if she was expecting him to die down there and join her in the afterlife forever. Yeah, like _that_ would ever happen.

            Snape and Remus greeted them, as the latter ran towards the group in order to check on them. If the former wasn’t so opposed to showing affection, he might’ve done the same thing, but alas, some things never change.

            “Thank Merlin, I was beginning to worry! Is everyone alright?” Remus inspected them, but still spent a lot more time on Harry, who by comparison looked like he just needed a good rest, unlike the other three who were dirty, bruised in places no one should be, and the first year who looked paler than Myrtle still. “Harry, what are you holding?”

            “Just a souvenir from the fight. I’ll tell you later, now’s not the time.” Harry awkwardly explained, moving his fingers on the metal staff.

            “So you’re all…?”

            “We’re okay, Professor.” Hannah managed. “Harry did it!” she exclaimed. “He managed to stop it.”

            “Only _after_ we weakened it!” Draco tutted, not one to ease up on his laurels. “And only _after_ we saved Potter’s scrawny arse from death by magical diary power draining!”

            “Sorry. Again.” Ginny spoke with a hoarse voice, looking at her feet.

            “Will you stop that, Weasley?” Draco rolled his eyes. “You didn’t _deliberately_ set out to do this, it was _father_ who did it. Bloody wanker.” he puffed.

            “Language, mister Malfoy.” Snape added out of reflex.

            “Oh, _bite_ me, Severus, you weren’t the one who had to defeat a giant 30 meters long snake in headless-chicken mode!” Draco spat right back at him.

            “Now, now, we did offer you help!” Remus placated them both, because Snape looked _this_ close to taking points from Slytherin for the first time in twelve years of teaching.

            “Yeah, no, it would’ve killed you.” Hannah couldn’t help herself.

            “I’m still not sure you’re giving us enough credit.” Remus shook his head and crossed his arms.

            “Believe me when I say that even under normal circumstances it would’ve gotten you.” Harry exhaled and conjured a blanket for Ginny to warm her up, as the way to the Chamber closed behind them with the same grating sound as before. Good riddance.

            “ _Normal_ circum – just _what_ happened down there?” Remus shook his head.

            “I’ll tell you about it someday. But right now we have to get Ginny to professor McGonagall and tell her the threat is no more.” Harry subtly tried to change subjects.

            “Wait, wasn’t Lockhart with you? I thought we asked you to make him tag along.” Remus suddenly realised.

            Harry changed a subtle look with the others and in an instant formed a wordless pact with them. They didn’t need to know the truth, after all, and they wouldn’t care that much in the end.

            “We tried his office, but he wasn’t there. The place looked ransacked before we came in.” the green-eyed boy said carefully.

            “Coward must’ve run off to hide.” Hannah said darkly.

            “Pity.” Snape sighed. “I would’ve liked to see him _finally_ do something instead of talking incessantly about it. The Defence teacher flees the battle before it begins, just what is the world coming to? But it seems we ought to thank you for your services to the school, regardless of the absence of adult supervision.”

            “I don’t think I’m ever going to be comfortable with children fighting our battles.” Remus spoke to Snape as they escorted them out.

            “Then maybe next time we should be better prepared. Potter, everything alright with you?” Snape turned around to ask him.

            “Perfectly fine, no worries, I don’t need a trip to the Hospital Wing. These guys might…”

            “ _No_.” came the triple response, coupled with dark looks. “I’d rather face the basilisk again than explain to Madame Pomfrey what we were up to.” Neville said.

            “Okay then…” Harry blinked several times. “I think we’re fine.”

            “Good. And good job with saving the school. See you at breakfast. Lupin, there’s no need to hold their hands _now_ , we have work to do, there are Petrified victims to attend, and I seem to recall an aptitude for Potions back in the day that was just beyond mediocre.” Snape intoned in his usual manner, like he was discussing weather. Perhaps he had come to view Harry’s and his friends’ heroics as just… something that happens?

            “Try not to get into any more trouble, please?” Remus pleaded with Harry as they parted ways down the corridor.

            “After _this_? Yeah, you bet.” the boy winked and Remus smiled, before turning towards the Potion and walked with him down the hall.

            “So you have something in mind for better preparation?” Remus asked.

            “I do, in fact…” Snape added, but they were too far away to hear what they were discussing.

            Harry and the others just stared at their retreating backs.

            “Did you see that?” Harry couldn’t believe his eyes.

            “See what?” Draco drawled out.

            “I believe Severus Snape has made a _friend_.” Harry smiled brightly.

            “Yeah, _that_ will be the day.” Hannah huffed dismissively.

            ‘I dunno, stranger things have happened.” Neville said airily. “And yes, I’m counting that time Draco sneezed and turned every liquid within a three-metre radius into ice.”

            “ _One_ time!” Draco smacked his lips in annoyance, as the others snickered at the memory and began walking, but Harry had to stop them.

            “Draco…” he looked at the blond boy with a sad look, one that he got in return in the next second.

            “Yes, yes, I know… I’ll see you all later.” he looked dejected as he went in the directions of the two teachers.

            “Is he alright?” Ginny asked, confused.

            “I’ll explain it to you afterwards, I promise.” Hannah comforted the girl, who blushed furiously.

           

            Draco had left them to go to the Room, because he shouldn’t be seen with them, as painful as it was to not include him, but it was a safety issue. Harry, Hannah, Neville and Ginny all walked towards McGonagall’s office together, no longer afraid of what lied in the shadows. The deadliest creature in all the land had been slayed, and the person controlling it was gone.

            McGonagall’s office was quite crowded, it seemed. She was there, at the desk, along with two red-headed persons, a man and a woman, whom Harry recognised as Arthur and Molly Weasley respectively, and then there was Dumbledore, of all people, standing by the fireplace, smiling at them when they entered.

            “Ginny!” the Weasleys shouted at the same time when they saw her, rushing to her side immediately. “Are you okay? What happened to you?” they asked.

            “I’m so sorry, I should’ve known better…” Ginny was in tears upon seeing her parents.

            “Ginny was possessed by this diary.” Harry said, placing it in Dumbledore’s hands, who inspected it, along with McGonagall. “It gave Ginny the task to open the Chamber and set the basilisk loose.”

            “Basilisk?” Mrs. Weasley exploded, hand on her chest. “Dear Merlin!”

            “Don’t worry, it’s quite dead, misses Weasley.” Hannah found herself saying.

            “Beg pardon?” McGonagall did a double take, while Dumbledore calmly listened.

            “Oh yeah, completely dead. Harry here took it down.” Neville added, gesturing towards his friend.

            “Thank you, thank you so much, Harry!” Arthur and Molly expressed their gratitude. “We can never express how grateful we are to you for saving our daughter.” Molly pulled him into a hug.

            “It’s alright, misses Weasley. I couldn’t just let Tom Riddle take control of her, after all.”

            “Who?” Arthur asked, as McGonagall went white as a sheet.

            “Ah.” Dumbledore clicked his tongue as he walked towards the desk, while Harry placed the staff on it as well.

            “Makes sense now, doesn’t it?” Harry asked him.

            “Yes, I do suppose it does.” Dumbledore agreed.

            “I’m sorry, who is this Tom Riddle and what did he have to do with my daughter?” Arthur went into parent mode.

            “Tom Riddle was a student here fifty years ago, back when the Chamber first opened. I believed that he was responsible, but I had no proof, and someone innocent was blamed instead. This proves that Hagrid wasn’t the one who did it in the first place. But you know Tom Riddle under a different name; you know him as Voldemort.”

            At this the air in the room froze in place, as the two Weasleys gained the same colour as McGonagall, who Harry suspected _knew_ Tom Riddle, given her age, which is why she was in this state.

            “ _Him_?” Molly whispered.

            “Ginny, what did I tell you? If it talks and you can’t see where it keeps its brain, you _run_!” Arthur chided his daughter, who looked ashamed to be alive, so Harry had to intervene.

            “It’s not her fault.” he placated them. “The diary had a way to make you talk to it, spill your secrets and thoughts inside of it. Riddle could be quite charming if he wanted to. I know, because it happened to me, I’ve told him some things that I didn’t tell anyone else, and it nearly destroyed me, even though I did it only once.”

            “Yes, Tom was certainly a mastermind in manipulation; he had everyone wrapped around his fingers back when he studied here.” Dumbledore agreed. “Ginny, do you feel able to talk with the authorities, tell them what happened? Hagrid is still in prison for this, I’m afraid.” he asked

            “I can.” she nodded decisively. “I owe him that much.”

            She said her goodbyes to the other children, Molly and Arthur expressed their gratitude to them one more time, before they left with McGonagall, who shook her head disapprovingly at Harry, but her smile betrayed her intentions.

            “Now, may I ask a few questions?” Dumbledore dressed his voice, placing the diary in front of him as he sat down.

            “I was hoping you would, sir.” Harry replied simply as he drew the chairs for him and the other two.

            “How did you come to learn where the Chamber was in the first place?” he clasped his fingers together.

            “We knew the basilisk was using the pipes, and that last time the attacks happened a girl died, Myrtle Warren, to be exact, and she haunts the bathroom on the second floor, so when put together…” Hannah spoke.

            “Makes sense for it to be there.” the Headmaster agreed. “I must admit, I have searched high and low for it, but it would have never occurred to me to look for it inside a _loo_.” he chuckled.

            “Neither did we.” Harry sighed.

            “And how did you destroy the diary?” Dumbledore inspected the whole Harry made.

            “Well, with this thing.” the boy pointed at the staff on the table. “The Hat gave it to me down there, I don’t know why or how, or what it is.”

            “Ah, I was wandering where the Hat disappeared off to.” Dumbledore remarked as Harry handed him the object.

            “Yeah, Fawkes came down there to help. I thought you would’ve sent him.” Harry frowned.

            “I didn’t, not precisely.” Dumbledore said. “He came to you during your time of need because you clearly demonstrated – ah – a certain amount of loyalty towards me, if you don’t mind me presuming.” he chuckled.

            “Well, _me_ , technically, but it was a group feeling.” Neville smiled. “Sir.” he remembered to add.

            “I’m touched.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “But what I do not know is where the staff came from.” he took the object and inspected it. “There are runes, powered down, of course, but I can’t seem to read them properly. It is remarkable craftsmanship, whoever made it must’ve been incredibly powerful; wizard staves are quite difficult to create in the first place, and they’re usually wood.”

            “But I’m guessing that even wooden staves are hard to come by in the first place.” Harry theorised.

            “That would be correct. Ollivander’s shop, for example, has only ever made _one_ , hundreds of years ago. And you say that you wielded it?” the Headmaster asked Harry, who nodded. “Well, then it is safe to assume that it’s now yours.” he handed the object back.

            “Wait, really?” Harry was dumbfounded as he clasped the metal handle. “I get to keep it?”

            “Like the wand chooses the wizard, so does a staff, as it has the same purpose, only on a different scale. If it worked for you as intended, then for all intents and purposes, it has chosen you to be its master, Harry.” Dumbledore continued.

            “But where does it come from?” Neville asked. “Or how did the Sorting Hat know to send it our way?”

            “Better yet, _why_ did the Sorting Hat had this in the first place?” Hannah frowned. “It can’t be a Founder relic. Can it?”

            “The imagery isn’t consistent with any Founder motif, none of them had a dragon as a symbol.” Harry shook his head. “But it has to do with Hogwarts somehow, if not for the fact that the Hat gave this to me.”

            “The castle is named after a hog, true, but there is a dragon motif with it, particularly on the motto.” Dumbledore nodded.

            “Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus.” Harry remembered the words etched on the scroll below the Hogwarts emblem.

            “Which is?” Hannah raised an eyebrow.

            “Never tickle a sleeping dragon.” Harry translated.

            “Quite practical advice, if I do say so myself.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled again. “I would be remiss, however, if I did not scold you for being out on a mandatory curfew, deliberately placing yourselves in danger, and nearly dying.” he scowled for a second at them, and Harry’s stomach did a weird turn, before the aging man settled back into McGonagall’s chair and resumed his usual behaviour. “Now that that’s out of the way, I want to congratulate you for succeeding in such a task and for saving young Miss Weasley. You will all receive awards for special services for the school, I promise…”

            “Draco and Hermione too.” Harry said. “We couldn’t have figured it out in time without Hermione’s note that she left for us before she got Petrified and Draco basically pulled me back from the dead down in the Chamber.”

            “And where is Mister Malfoy?” Dumbledore realised. “Is he alright?”

            “He’s fine, just that his father is the one who gave Ginny the diary in the first place, he can’t know Draco helped stop that.” Harry reiterated. “We’ve told you because we trust you, but anyone else…”

            “I understand. I will make sure he has his recognition, albeit more discreetly.” Dumbledore said gravely. “As you well know, Lucius Malfoy is…” he started telling, but speak of the devil and he shall appear.

            Malfoy senior stormed McGonagall’s office with a wrathful look on his face, eyebrows drawn together and lips pursed to no end, and he was immediately faced with the sight of the three children and Dumbledore. Harry barely had time to send the sceptre to the celling in the split-second Lucius was looking in the opposite direction for them.

            “Dumbledore.” he said with a slight sneer, approaching with slow steps. “Imagine my surprise when I had heard that you returned to the school from which you have been thrown out of.” he drawled out. “I do believe your demise was quite clear and is still in effect. What now with that poor girl dead and Professor Lockhart missing, I do not see why you would return.”

            “My _suspension_ , as it were, Lucius,” Dumbledore stood up and walked in the same manner as the other man, and Harry knew they were in for a show; you did not go up against Dumbledore when he had the upper hand, “was because of the continuous attacks on the school that I had failed to stop as Headmaster, a decision in which I am well aware you coerced the other members of the Board to go along with. But as you will discover, Professor Lockhart has run away in fear, Miss Weasley is quite alive, and the person responsible has been stopped, along with the creature he used.”

            Silence. Malfoy had no retort to this one, his face going several shades of red, landing on puce, and a mix of emotions ghosted over his features.

            “Oh?” he asked, just the tiniest tremor in his voice. “And who might that be?”

            “Tom Riddle, more commonly known as Lord Voldemort.” Dumbledore went right up in his face. “He left an enchanted diary of himself at a young age from when he first opened the Chamber, the diary, which,” and at this he produced the diary and nearly hit Lucius in the face with it, “you will find that it contains traces of Dark Magic, confirming everything I just told you.”

            “Well, I am very glad to hear that this situation is resolved.” Lucius smiled sardonically, eyeing the diary precariously.

            “Was there something _else_ you wanted to discuss, Lucius?” Dumbledore challenged him.

            “No, Dumbledore. You are hereby reinstated as Headmaster of this school. Good day to you, children…” Lucius swallowed and exited. “Dobby, come!” he said out of a sudden and Harry just noticed the small house elf behind the man’s robes, walking dutifully behind him, but not before shooting the boy a sad look.

            Harry had a thought.

            “Professor, may I borrow the diary for a bit?” Harry asked the Headmaster, who handed him the object without question.

            “You have that _look_ on you, what are you doing?” Hannah remarked.

            “What needs to be done.” he said cryptically, taking off his shoe and placing his sock inside the pages of the notebook. “I’ll see you all back in the Room. Take the staff or whatever with you, please.” he asked them, making it fall into Neville’s open hand. “Night, Professor!” the boy bid his farewells and hurried out the door.

            He caught up with Lucius and Dobby just two floors down. Determined in his resolve, Harry shouted after them.

            “Mister Malfoy, sir!” he said, making the man turn around in surprise to see a jogging Harry trailing after him. “I think you forgot this.” he said, handing the man the diary, who took it more out of instinct.

            “What use is this tattered old book to me?” he sneered, handing Dobby the diary, and Harry’s plan was already fulfilled by then, but something inside of him didn’t want him to stop there. Maybe there was still adrenaline from before, or maybe he had finally gone crazy, but he had to reply.

            “Well, as a memento, certainly!” Harry smiled innocently. “I know I would want a reminder of what not to do, next time, if I were ever so foolish to try something like this again.”

            “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean by that, _mister Potter_.” Lucius practically growled.

            “And I’m not afraid to say that you _do_ , in fact, know exactly what I’m talking about, _Lucius_.” he elongated the ‘s’ sounds in his name to remind him of a certain someone. He appeared to have been right, Voldemort did taunt him by hissing out his name, judging by the look on the man’s face. “I may not be able to prove it, true, but you and I both know that you placed that Diary in Ginny Weasley’s cauldron back in Diagon Alley in August, because you hate Arthur and you wanted his daughter in trouble so that _he_ will be in trouble as well.” Harry accused him.

            “Mind your…” Lucius stepped forward, but Harry stepped even further.

            “No, _you_ watch it!” he gritted. “I just destroyed the basilisk single-handedly and stopped Voldemort’s memory from returning, not even a bruise on me, the last thing you want to do is go up against me.” he warned and Lucius must’ve been smart enough not to test that part. “You’re lucky that Draco had nothing to do with all of this, or else we would be having a different conversation right now.” he lied. “And if he wasn’t my friend, I would sic the entire press and Department of Aurors on your arse, just to find the slightest shred of concrete evidence that you were connected to the attacks.”

            “What do you want, Potter?” Lucius finally said, full of rage.

            “Nothing.” Harry smacked his lips. “All I wanted was to let you know that should you ever try something like this again, friend or no friend, I will stop you. Personally.”

            “You’re awfully confident for a twelve-year old.” Lucius huffed dismissively.

            “And you’re forgetting who you’re dealing with. I’m not some kid you can bully with your words, I’m a survivor, a fighter, and I have more at my disposal than you do right now. Tell me, did the letter of dismissal from the Board of Governors found its way to you yet?” he laughed coldly, and Lucius’ eyes widen. “I don’t think I have to tell you how the parents of the students here will react when they find out you were responsible for kicking Dumbledore out at the height of the attacks. And what do you know, the second he came back, against your order, the attacker was stopped.” Harry sneered in true Draco fashion. “The world may not know the whole truth, but it is awfully _convenient_ that Dumbledore’s arrival coincided with the end of this nightmare, don’t you think?”

            “You think you’re so _clever_ …” Lucius fumed.

            “I _know_ I am.” Harry went off, smiling darkly.

            Lucius looked red in the face, and possibly wanted to curse Harry, but instead turned around.

            “Dobby! Let us go!” the man announced, and Dobby was dragged slightly forward, before Harry placed a reassuring hand on the elf’s shoulder.

            “Open it.” the boy whispered, barely containing his smile, motioning for the remains of the diary.

            Dobby looked at him with his big tennis balls for eyes, and let the pages open themselves where the binding wanted it to. Around halfway through, between bloodied, torn pages, was Harry’s left sock, standing there lamely, but for the house elf it was the most beautiful sight in his life, the one salvation he desperately needed.

            “Dobby!” Lucius shouted after the elf, a few good metres ahead of them. He turned around, looking at them with a very confused stare when his house elf failed to be dragged to him by his command.

            “Master gave Dobby sock! Master has gifted him with _clothes_.” the elf could scarcely believe it, and Harry barely could supress his joy at seeing the sheer relief on the creature’s face.

            “What? I never gave you –!” Lucius said with venom, but one look at the sock and then back at Harry made him realise what had just transpired.

            “Dobby is free!” Dobby continued in his glee.

            “You… made me lose my _servant_!” Lucius roared and made a move to take his wand from his stick, but someone was quicker.

            Dobby send the man flying with a ball of light, landing him on the opposite end of the hallway, face first into the stone floor.

            “You shall not harm Harry Potter, not while Dobby is around to stop you!” the elf squeaked with fury, and Harry had to give it to him, there was a badass in there somewhere.

            “See, the problem with the likes of you is that you never consider just _how_ clever I am, after all.” Harry chuckled. “Or how you treat others will reflect how you are treated in turn.” he gestured to Dobby, who nodded furiously, bat ears flapping around wildly.

            “This is not over, Potter!” Lucius spat, standing up and futilely trying to compose himself, but this time his hair was completely out of its carefully orchestrated coiffure. “Your friendship with my son will not protect you for long!”

            “Nor you.” Harry growled, face and voice turned dark. “See you around, _Lucius_!” he turned on his heels and walked back the way he came, this time with Dobby in tow.

            “Thank you, Harry Potter, sir!” Dobby expressed his gratitude once they were out of earshot. “Dobby can never say…”

            “Just promise me one thing, Dobby.” Harry stopped and kneeled down to be on Dobby’s level.

            “Anything, sir!” the elf quipped.

            “That you will _never_ subject yourself to this kind of treatment ever again.” Harry said seriously.

            “Dobby swears, sir, that Dobby will never be a servant anymore!” Dobby nodded solemnly.

            “Good. As for the ambient magic problem, which I’m guessing will be a concern in the future…” Harry stood up and the elf agreed with him. “I think I have a few ideas.” he smiled slyly.

 

            Hermione was woken up two days later by the Restorative Draught, which Snape and Sprout concocted together, along with Mrs. Norris, Collin Creevy, Penelope Clearwater, Justin Flint-Fletchley and Nearly-Headless-Nick, who had to be sprayed with the solution, which worked, for some reason.

            Hermione gasped a few times, looking around with a terrified look, before she saw the expectant smiles of her friends, standing at the foot of her bed.

            “’MIONE!” they all cried as they descended on her, attacking with hugs from all sides.

            “Slow down, I can’t breathe!” she said, voice muffled, but when they retracted she didn’t look unhappy at all. “Is it over?”

            “Yes.” Neville said. “You were right, it was Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.” he said as they all sat down.

            “Hermione, I’m so sorry for everything, the way I –” Harry started, but the girl clasped his hand and smiled at him.

            “I know, Harry. I forgave you when you first told me.” she teared up. “I’ve got to fight with you more often, the guilt gets you to get things done.” she laughed, wiping away at her eyes with her free hand.

            “You… heard that?” Harry tried to find the words. “Everything?”

            “Everything you said to me then, yes.” she nodded. “The rest is all a blur, like I can only remember one part of the dream and that was your apology.” she frowned, trying to come up with an explanation.

            “That’s just… _awful_!” Hannah exhaled. “I can’t imagine what it was like, trapped like that, but still hearing things.”

            “And at least I only endured it for a few weeks, it’s been months for the others.” Hermione remarked darkly. “Collin lost nearly an entire year, biologically speaking.”

            “They’ll be fine.” Draco comforted her. “We all will be.”

            “How did you stop the basilisk?” Hermione asked them, changing subjects. “Did you find out who was helping Voldemort open the Chamber?”

            And so they retold the events from their battle with the basilisk, of how they got Lockhart to join them, how he died by his own foolishness, how Hannah finally learned that she was an Elemental, how Riddle took over Harry’s life force, and then how the boy managed to fight that. Which was fantastical in itself, because when spoken out loud, it sounded absolutely ridiculous.

            “A staff.” Hermione deadpanned. “And armour changing mid-fight, really?” she raised an eyebrow at Harry.

            “Hey, I didn’t have a choice in the fashion, it just happened!” he defended himself. “It’s not like I purposely decided to get a bloody cape in the first place!”  
            “There is a _cape_ involved?” Hermione looked at the others, who could only shrug. “What’s this, a superhero origin story?” she asked Harry. “And what was that with ‘touch the dragon within’, or ‘awaken, guardian’?” Hermione continued, using a mocking voice for the strange phrases. “How did R get inside of your head and how did they know to say all of that?”

            “I have no idea. But they were right about Hannah, and about the dragon.” Harry sighed.

            “Sorry, what?” Hermione shook her head, before Harry extended his hand, and made the staff appear after a small flash of light and a sound of electricity buzzing loudly.

            “This one, I should think.” Harry remarked.

            “Incredible…” Hermione wasted no time trying to inspect the object. “I’ve heard of them, but I never thought I would see one in person! But considering you’re _you_ , I guess I should’ve seen it coming.” she chuckled.

            “A little light here, Hermione?” Neville intervened, voicing everyone’s thoughts.

            “Staves are used for channelling enormous amounts of magic, and the cores inside enhance it greatly. If one can use a staff like he or she would a wand, that person has to be incredibly powerful in magic. Obviously, Harry more than fits that category.” the bushy-haired girl explained, handing the boy back his staff.  “How did you call it down here from the Room?” she remembered, pointing lazily at it.

            “It just comes to me now if I need it.” Harry explained. “And I can also send it to wherever I want. Well, so far.” he admitted, returning the staff in his bedroom with a flash. “I haven’t tested it out much since it got it two days ago, I don’t know it there’s a distance limit for it.”

            “But where was it _before_ that the Sorting Hat knew to give it to you?” Hermione found herself asking. “And since when is it a transporting object, it’s supposed to be enchanted to assess mental traits, not teleport weapons!”

            “Do you think it’s a two-way method of transport?” Hannah hummed.

            “I’m not sticking my hand inside to find out.” Draco rejected the idea.

            “What, afraid there’s an angry bunny at the other end?” Neville mocked him.

            “Something is. Or _someone_.” Harry theorised.

            “We’re not venturing inside of the Sorting Hat, people!” Hannah looked at them like they were crazy. “I don’t know if you noticed, but we’re too big to fit anyway!”

            “Perhaps it was the Hat itself? Did you do something or say something that would trigger the staff’s arrival?” Hermione asked Harry.

            “Besides coming back from purgatory? I don’t know. Perhaps me being the Guardian has something to do with it.” Harry blinked

            “You’re the _what_ now?” Neville couldn’t help the escaping laugh.

            “The Guardian. Whatever that means. R said that protecting people is what I’m supposed to be doing, and then literally said ‘awaken, guardian’ while cupping my face and looking at me, what’s your conclusion from that?” Harry asked sarcastically.

            “So you’re this protector of… the world?” Hermione tried. “Or about to be, more like it.”

            “Is this why you have these powers? To help save people when they need it?” Hannah looked unconvinced.

            “Maybe. I thought as much, but now…” Harry trailed off.

            “Now what?” Draco pressured him.

            “I think it’s more than that. It’s almost unreal, the way you’re all Elementals and I’m this magic well, all fighting evil forces… me being meant to fight Voldemort is one thing, but all of _this_ makes me think there’s something else at play here. I don’t know what, but we’re going to get to the bottom of this.”

            “Forgive me for pointing out, but we’re not _all_ Elementals.” Hermione gave him a look.

            “ _Yet_.” Harry reiterated their old argument. “I haven’t ruled you out. There’s more to you, I can guarantee it.”

            “I appreciate that, but you have to realise that I’m not…” Hermione tried.

            “I will bet you large sums of money that sometime next year you’ll get your powers.” Hannah said out of the sudden, now a true believer.

            “Fine!” Hermione groaned. “We will see who’s right eventually, anyway, there’s no point in arguing this further. What are you going to do about Draco’s dad?”

            “I’ve been meaning to speak to you about this, actually.” Draco remembered, looking pointedly at Harry. “My family owl arrived with a letter from my father, this very morning, in which he demands and urges me to stay even more plastered to you and become even closer if possible. At one point he was subtly hinting that I even engage in a romantic relationship with you, if it grants me a permanent spot in your trusted circle. Any ideas as to why he would tell me that?”

            “Romantic relationship?” Hannah whispered to Neville, who could only shrug.

            “I…” Harry looked at all of them, trying to come up with an explanation. “ _May_ have threatened to take him down if he tries anything like this ever again.” he looked at his feet.

            “You confronted _Father_ and lived?” Draco looked shocked.

            “That was risky, even for you.” Hannah frowned. “Why the devil would you do that?”

            “Because I’m tired of always being on the defensive.” Harry admitted with a strong voice. “I’m sick of always being afraid, of always just reacting to what bad people do to us, instead of _acting_.” he stressed out his point. “I’m not going to let Lucius or Riddle, or anyone like them, ever dictate what my life is like, I will take the fight to them, proactively if I must.”

            “You do realise the danger…” Draco raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

            “I no longer care.” Harry crossed his legs and arms, looking like a fuming diva. “If they want a war, they’ve got one. You’ve seen what I can do, I will make sure no one touches me or any one of us again.”

            “Harry, you may have great power, but it’s not enough.” Hermione reminded him. “You also have a great mind, but you need to _use_ it just as much as your magic. Whatever you choose, we will be there for you, but I only ask that you think it through.” she placed a hand on him, pleading with her big brown eyes.

            “Yeah, I think we’ll be fine.” Neville sighed heavily, dispelling the tension around them. “Did your father really want you to be Harry’s boyfriend in case it cemented your trust?” he asked Draco.

            “He said, and I quote: ‘It is in your best interest if you would grow closer to the Potter boy, perhaps even form a deep emotional bond with him, romantic or otherwise.’; what else can you draw from that?” Draco revealed.

            “No offence, Draco, but you’re not exactly my type.” Harry laughed.

            “I’ll have you know I’m a great catch, Potter!” Draco refused to believe his ears.

            “Then I’ll never know what I missed.” Harry sighed with a fake sorrow, making everyone laugh.

            It did beg the question, however: just what was Lucius willing to do to keep an eye on Harry? Pimping out his own flesh and blood, his only son to someone he considered an enemy? That was a lot, and it was going over so many lines it should’ve never have crossed a father’s mind. Political alliances, sure, maybe on some Slytherin level Harry could see that, but to spy to someone? There was no word to describe the level of maliciousness it involved.

 

            After Hermione was woken up and forgave Harry for his past transgressions, the group settled down into a quiet student life for the remainder of the school year. The students who were attacked by the basilisk, save for the last two, needed special tutoring to catch up, and since Harry felt partially responsible, he took it upon himself to help Collin with his missing months of school. The boy constantly reminded him that he didn’t have to, even though he was beyond excited at first, but Harry could not be deterred.

            “Alright, so we add the lizard scales last…” Harry explained to the mousy-haired boy one afternoon in an empty classroom, surrounded by dozens of bottles of all shapes and sizes, with a boiling cauldron in front of them.

            “Why do you do it?” Collin asked suddenly, not paying attention to their potion, but looking intently at Harry for some reason, who had no idea what to say.

            “Because the scales help with the regenerative part of the potion and Snape will have my head if I don’t specify everything I do?” Harry struggled for an answer.

            “No, I mean, why do you help people the way you do?” Collin reiterated.

            “Haven’t we been over this?” Harry settled down the vial with green skin from a very unfortunate lizard. “If I hadn’t been injured at the game, you wouldn’t…”

            “No, no.” Collin interrupted. “Not that. I get that, I mean, you’re helping me with schoolwork, like a good person and a good friend, that’s what you’re _supposed_ to do. I meant in general.”

            “I’m guessing that what you’re referring to goes beyond helping old ladies cross the street?” Harry slyly said.

            “It’s this whole… _saviour_ thing you’ve got going on.” Collin drew his chair closer to the desk they were working on and pierced Harry with his gaze. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s awesome, and when you got rid of You-Know-Who the first time I think everyone was happy about it…”

            “Debatable.” Harry muttered, but let the boy continue.

            “But now… You get a _choice_. And you’re choosing to put your life on the line for people you barely know, or don’t even know, and you do it without hesitation.” Collin frowned something fierce.

            “And you’re complaining because…?” Harry mocked.

            “I’m not complaining, Harry!” Collin laughed. “Of course I’m not! You’ve saved my life, _and_ my grades! I don’t know which one my dad is happier about right now, truth be told.”

            “Certainly not your Potions grades.” Harry snickered, handing the boy the vial he had been holding, the contents of which the other lad threw lazily in the cauldron. Correctly, but still.

            “I’m guess I’m asking you how do you do it; how can you steel yourself to go out there and be this hero and not second-guess yourself.” Collin looked at the cauldron, unable to bring himself to ask the real question.

            “You’re asking how can I feel this brave when you feel like you can’t?” Harry figured it out, at which Collin nodded. “Come now!” Harry laughed out of a sudden. “You can’t be serious! I’m terrified all the time!”

            “ _No_.” Collin gasped dramatically, but the look on his face said that he actually meant it, bulging his eyes out comically and dropping his jaw.

            “I am afraid one-hundred percent of the time, my dear Collin.” Harry admitted, turning down the flame on the cauldron to let it simmer. “Every time I do something heroic, like you’ve put it, I’m actually scared to death that something will happen to me, or _worse_ , something will happen to my friends.”

            “But how do you do anything, then?” Colling looked at him incredulously.

            “Adrenaline is a powerful thing, mate.” Harry smiled. “Also, survival instinct.” he remembered. “You’d be amazed at what you can do when your life is on the line. But courage isn’t the absence of fear, admitting it is. And when I’m afraid, of what can happen to me or my loved ones, I use that fear to protect them. Same with everybody else, I’m afraid that people will get hurt if I don’t do something.”

            “Okay, I get the _how_ , but you still haven’t told me _why_ do you do it.” Collin scrunched up his face.

            “I suppose it comes from my parents dying.” Harry told him, and the boy’s face turned pale instantly. “I miss them terribly, or rather the idea I have of them, because I don’t remember meeting them, I just get these moments, fragments sometimes, of what life was like back then. But they’re few and as I grow older, I know I am forgetting more and more.” Harry admitted things he hadn’t even told his friends, as Collin was unusually quiet during all of this. “They were so young, Collin. They were only 21 when they died. It must seem like they were very old to you and me, but put into perspective, 21 is the age where you’re in university or something like that, when you’re supposed to have the time of your life, not be killed in cold blood, not participate in a war.” Harry felt tears in his eyes, and Collin didn’t look much better. “And when I listened to Remus’ stories about them, about who they were as people, the hole in my heart got smaller, I got to meet them at last. But they were memories still, and not even mine. I had an entire future, a whole life with them, just ripped apart. I am lucky enough to have wonderful caretakers, my aunt and uncle, whom I love very much, and my cousin, Dudley, who is like my brother, but the fact remains that I was still deprived from meeting two wonderful people who wanted me and loved me, and who ultimately gave their life so that I can have mine. I am still an orphan of war, Collin, I will always be one. And so is Neville. And so is Hannah, in a way. And so many others, who have lost someone they love because of cruelty and hatred.” Harry sniffed. “And when I learned that I was a wizard, that I could do all sorts of things happen, and when I discovered that I have this gifts that apparently no other wizard has, I think I made a silent vow to myself that I would use these things to help people, so that they never have to feel the way I do.”

           

            Collin sat there in silence for a moment, taking everything in, and Harry realised he had never even expressed within his own thoughts the reasons why he was fighting for a better tomorrow, why he was gunning for Voldemort so arduously in spite of the prophecy.

            “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so full of _good_ like you are, before.” Collin smiled as he hugged Harry tightly.

            “You should see me when I swear and get angry, you’ll take that back.” Harry chuckled through the tears, breaking away.

            “As long as you remember to do good, I think we can all forgive a little whisper of ‘fu –” Collin spoke.

            “Ah-ah-ah!” Harry put his hand over the boy’s mouth. “Listen, as badass as you think I am, if Hermione ever hears you swear because of me, I will have my arse kicked something wicked, do you understand?”

            “It’s not like she can _hear_ me now, Harry.” Collin rolled his eyes.

            “I wouldn’t be so sure.” the green-eyed boy glanced at his phone, sitting on the desk. “You don’t know her like I do.”

            “I just wish that one day I can be as brave as you.” Collin admitted sheepishly.

            “I think you already are. You went out in the dead of night, knowing there was a monster on the loose, just to bring me a snack in case I was hungry because I was cooped up in the Hospital Wing.” Harry pointed out. “If that doesn’t spell brave, I don’t know what does.”

            “It’s not the same as you going against the basilisk!” Collin groaned, turning red. “ _That’s_ brave!”

            “The size of the deed isn’t important, Collin. There is good in all shapes and sizes, and don’t think for a second that I didn’t carry what you did with me. Actually, come to think of it, it’s what helped me kill that giant snake in the first place.” Harry shoved him lightly with his shoulder when the boy looked unconvinced. “You’ll get your chance, I can promise you that.”

            “Let’s just hope I can be of more use then than I am now.” Collin sighed. “I suppose I have to get this to Professor Snape.” he gestured towards the cauldron, and Harry turned off the flame when the potion emitted the correct colour of smoke.

            “Give him the sample with the vial for him to grade.” Harry agreed.

            There was a knock on the door the moment Collin took his sample and bottled it. Someone opened the door, a girl with long red hair and freckles all over her face, and a dark expression on.

            “Hey, Ginny!” Collin greeted her warmly, but Harry felt that something was off. “We were just finished here, but if you want to come with me…”

            “Actually, I was wanting to talk to Harry for a bit, if that’s alright.” Ginny spoke more to Harry, who looked at her curiously.

            “That’s okay, I’ll see you later, I have to give this ruddy potion back to Snape anyway.” Collin waved her off, completely unfazed, gathering his things. “Bye, Harry! Thanks for everything!” he waved as he ran to the door.

            “Don’t forget your Charms essay!” Harry remembered to shout after him. “Energetic little fellow, isn’t he?” he asked Ginny after the door closed.

            “He can be overwhelming, but he’s very nice once you get to know him.” Ginny said as she sat down in Collin’s former seat.

            “I don’t mind it, I quite like him.” Harry said nonchalantly, still looking at the door. “Now what did you want to talk about?” he turned his gaze towards the surprisingly shy Ginny.

            “Are those new shoes?” she said instead, looking at Harry’s feet.

            “I’ve had these green Chuck Taylors for a year, you’ve seen me wearing them at least five different times.” Harry blinked.

            “Right, of course.” Ginny shook her head, breathing in deeply.

            “You’re kind of scaring me here, Gin.” Harry laughed nervously. “What’s the matter?”

            “I keep thinking about it, you know?” she said suddenly, raising her head, and Harry’s blood ran cold at the implication. “About when I was… Possessed by the diary. I don’t like it when I say that word, but Pomfrey said it helps me with coming to terms, or whatever her bloody words on the bloody subject were, like I am supposed to just be _okay_ with it by stating it as much as I can, like some bloody…” the girl started ranting, gesturing wildly and turning red in the cheeks from anger.

            “Whoa-whoa-whoa!” Harry placated her. Honestly, what was with these kids and their tendency to blow off unexpectedly. “Slow down there, you verbal machine gun! Madame Pomfrey said what?”

            “She says that I have been through a traumatic experience…” Ginny took another deep breath and explained slower.

            “You have.” Harry agreed.

            “And I am suffering this stress after trauma thing…” the girl continued.

            “Post-traumatic stress disorder.” Harry corrected her automatically.

            “Not helping.” Ginny clicked her tongue in annoyance.

            “Sorry.” Harry shook his head and motioned for her to continue.

            “And that I have a lot of work ahead of me if I’m going to get through this, but the first step is admitting that I have a problem and name that problem.” Ginny finished.

            “How is it manifesting?” Harry thought he had arrived at the root of the problem.

            “I get in these states, sometimes, at random.” Ginny said with more pain in her voice than it should’ve been allowed. “I get scared, completely terrified for no reason other than walking down the hall. Sometimes I let my head wander and I panic and look for the clock to see how much time I’ve missed since I looked last, and I can’t go to the bathroom without thinking I will open the Chamber again.”

            “It’s okay that you feel like that, Ginny.” Harry tried, but Ginny took it the wrong way.

            “How can you say that?” she looked like she wanted to hit him. “How can it be fine for me to feel this way?!”

            “I’m not saying it’s _fine_ , far from it, it’s terrible that you feel like this.” Harry continued calmly. “I’m saying it’s _okay_ to feel like this, because it’s normal to have these fears after what you’ve been through, not that what’s caused them is alright.”

            “Oh.” the girl realised.

            “Yes, _oh_ , miss-bite-my-head-off! How did Riddle manage to get to you? Because I felt like running a minute ago.” Harry joked, and this time it worked, because Ginny let out a small, tired chuckle in return. “What you did wasn’t your fault, nowhere near that, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t affect you. Besides accepting it happened and naming it, I think you also have to deal with the fact that what you’re going through now is, unfortunately, natural, but it will thankfully get better with time.”

            “That’s why I came to you, actually.” Ginny revealed.

            “I am insightful, Gin, but I’m not a therapist. I could try, but…” Harry scratched the back of his head.

            “No, I can talk about my state of mind with Pomfrey, there’s something else I need your help with. I want you to train me.” Ginny said decisively.

            “With?” Harry had an inquisitive look.

            “I want to be able to defend myself next time, to fight back and _hurt_. I don’t want to be this defenceless _ever_ again, so I’m asking you to help me.” Ginny pleaded. “I know, what you’re going to say,” she spoke louder when Harry opened his mouth to retort, “that I don’t have the abilities that you do, or that maybe I can never be a very strong witch, but I’m only asking that you help me overcome this feeling of helplessness, at least. Please, Harry.”

            “I was going to say that I think that’s an excellent idea.” the boy smacked his lips and smiled faintly.

            “You do?” Ginny frowned. “I was so sure that you were going to shut me down.”

            “Well, I’m not much of a teacher…” Harry started.

            “Collin says otherwise.” Ginny hummed.

            “But I think we can work something out.” Harry said cryptically. “And I’m not just doing this to make you feel less afraid, I really do believe that you have amazing potential. You broke free of the hold once, that has to count for something, right?”

            “I… thank you so much!” Ginny hugged Harry in a short movement, before retreating and holding his hands. “You have no idea what it means to me!”

            “So, have you given any thought as to when would you like to begin?” Harry asked.

            “I… uh…” Ginny realised something, letting go of his hands and staring into space. “I didn’t plan this far, really.”

            “Tell you what, how about you think it over the summer and when next year starts you come to me?” Harry proposed.

            “Sure, that sounds great!” Ginny agreed. “Thank you again, Harry!” she stood up, ready to leave. “I’ll see you around.”

            “Um, Gin?” Harry remembered suddenly. “About the Valentine card…” he said with trepidation.

            “Oh, _Merlin_ , please don’t…” Ginny groaned into her hand. “It was embarrassing enough as it was!”

            “Yes, and while I’m flattered, truly, I…” Harry stammered.

            “Please, you have to know –” Ginny said, but the boy was already on a decided course, and there was no going back.

            “Let me finish.” he said rather firmly, wavering voice gone for what was to come. “I am flattered, really, that a lovely girl such as yourself would develop feelings for me, and then declare them in such a sweet manner…”

            “Oh my.” Ginny put a hand over her mouth and just watched the trainwreck happening.

            “And that was most courageous of you, brilliantly, truly a Gryffindor at heart, but I’m afraid that your feelings on the matter aren’t returned. I’m very sorry Ginny, but what you feel for me can never be the same for me to you, not that you’re not worthy of feelings, _God no_ , you are and you will have someone to write poems to in the future, but you see I am – ah – I’m very gay, Ginny.” Harry finished with shock to himself, breathing like he jogged for a while.

            The girl just looked at him for a moment, time in which Harry fully expected shouts of disbelief, outcries, gasps, any sort of reaction that would be normal under the circumstances.

            What he didn’t expect, however, was Ginny laughing in his face.

            It wasn’t even a low chuckle, it started with a single snort before dropping into a full-blown, barely on your feet kind of laugh, the type that took over your whole body and shook you to the core. It was a good thing she was sitting down, because she looked unable to stand after a minute, swaying from side to side as her shoulders moved in time with her breathing, the whole room drowned in the sounds of her glee.

            “I’m not kidding, Gin.” Harry looked worried.

            “Oh, Harry! I know!” Ginny finally managed to calm down enough to speak, still fighting down the last remnants of her maniacal state.

            “You – come again?” the raven-haired boy shook his head and blinked several times in rapid succession.

            “I know you’re gay, silly! Have known since the start of the year!” she wiped away tears.

            “I… uh…” Harry gaped.

            “My, you meant it when you said you’re _really_ gay, I mean look how you hang about with your mouth right _open_!” Ginny snickered.

            “ _Ginny_!” Harry recovered enough to chide her. “My mouth wasn’t open because I was asking to suck cock right now, it was open because I didn’t know you know!” he continued before realising what he just said.

            “Well, when do suck cock, remember not to bite that hard like you did just now.” Ginny gave him a look of blasé, speaking through her teeth almost.

            “Oh my god, Hermione is going to _kill_ me!” Harry lamented, face in hands. “I curse too much and I make other kids do it as well!”

            “Like I know how to cuss from _you_!” Ginny rebuked him, slapping him on the knee. “I have six older brothers, you think I don’t have a vocabulary that would send my mum into St. Mungo’s if she ever knew? Also, how did you think I knew how to tell that you’re not straight? I have _six_ older brothers!” she repeated, stressing out her point.

            “Wait, who… Never mind, not my business.” Harry started, but then thought better of it. “How did you –”

            “Figure it out? I saw you checking out Percy before we boarded the train in September.” Ginny disclosed. “And _really_? _Percy_? Come now, Harry, you’re flying on the wrong side of the Quidditch pitch, he’s with that Penelope Clearwater girl.”

            “I was just _admiring_ him for a moment, that’s all!” Harry defended himself. “And wait a moment, why did you write the poem if you knew I like boys?”

            “Isn’t it obvious?” she crossed her arms and smile wickedly.

            “You didn’t write it.” Harry inhaled sharply, heart beating fast.

            “That’s right, I didn’t, because I happen to like girls, not boys, Harry!” Ginny fully declared herself as a budding lesbian.

            “I’m…” Harry needed a moment. “You… Bloody fuck, I’m so tired.” he groaned, hitting his head on the desk. “So you like girls?”

            “Yes.” Ginny sighed tiredly and answered without hesitation. Bloody hell, she sounded so sure of herself, much more than Harry did when he first came to the realisation. Just what the devil did they teach about openness and acceptance in the wizarding world that it included sexuality in all forms but not bloodlines? Jesus, were they backwards sometimes. Or the wrong way around, actually.

            “Really?” he tried once more.

            “Very much so, Potter.” came the response.

            “And you didn’t write the poem.” he looked at her with his right eye, forehead still planted on the desk.

            “No, I didn’t.” she repeated. “I was supposed to give it to the gnome to hand it to you, but it fell with the rest of my things from my bag when we ran into each other, and that blasted flying potato swooped in and read it to you before I could do anything about it.”

            “Then who _did_ write the bloody thing?” Harry said exasperatedly.

            “Ah, I can’t tell you that.” Ginny clicked her tongue.

            “Why the hell not?” Harry raised his head finally, outraged.

            “Because I don’t know!” Ginny said truthfully. “I just found it in my bag, along with a note explaining what to do.” she continued, at which Harry gave her a look. “Yes, I know, poor choice made, following written instructions from someone invisible, but the card sounded _so_ genuine and so well thought out, I just figured it was someone who was too shy to tell you themselves.”

            “Did the note say anything? Do you still have it?” Harry tried approaching it differently.

            “I don’t have it anymore, sorry, but I do remember that it said that the card is from someone who knows you well, sometimes better than you know yourself.” Ginny pondered.

            Harry’s mind short-circuited for a brief moment at the girl’s words. The distant memory of a text message, received somewhere before he lost the diary, from someone he didn’t trust back then, but he did now.

            Did R send him that card? To what end? They didn’t give any indication of having a crush on Harry when they met or through messages, but then again, R was a master deceiver and illusionist, revealing something so personal and so directly was out of the question.

            They must’ve known. They had to have known Harry’s preference in gender, so R must be a he to have sent a love poem, because what girl would go after someone that could never be interested in her like that? Of course, the possibility that R was a girl with an incessant crush on Harry was still plausible, knowledge of sexuality present or not. So what then? R had feelings for him? Is that why they didn’t reveal themselves? That the truth was even more complicated?

            “Earth to Harry!” Ginny snapped her fingers in front of his eyes.

            “Right, sorry.” the boy shook his head. “Yeah, we’ll definitely have a solution in September for your… training.” he finished lamely.

            “Okay.” Ginny looked unconvinced. “Are you sure you’re alright? You look like you’ve seen an Inferi.”

            “I’m fine, just deep in thought.” Harry rebutted, gathering his things. “And turning back to your very candid proclamation of lesbianhood, is there like a LGBT club in the school or something that helped you figure it out _so early_?” he asked out of a sudden.

            “Yeah, Roger Davies is currently in charge of it.” Ginny raised an eyebrow.

            “Ginny, oh my god, I was kidding.” Harry breathed.

            “Harry, we’ve had meetings, posters, a _Pride event_ last week, how did you manage to miss out on _all_ of that?” Ginny looked exasperated.

            “I’ve been rather busy this past year!” Harry tittered.

            “For Merlin’s sake… I’ll tell you what: you help me defend myself and I’ll introduce you to the wizarding queer world, would that be an even trade?” Ginny offered.

            “I’ll… think about that.” Harry replied, standing up with his bag. “I’ll see you around, Gin. Take care of yourself and call me if you need anything.” he hugged the girl and smiled.

            “I don’t have a phone anymore.” the girl admitted. “I had this old muggle Nokia but I broke it and my parents can’t afford to replace it right now.”

            “How did you manage to break a –” Harry let go of her reflexively.

            “You don’t want to know.” Ginny looked elsewhere.

            “Well, in that case…” Harry gave it some thought and smiled wickedly.

 

            The ending of the school year was drawing to a close. With the death of the basilisk and the threat of Voldemort coming back destroyed, coupled with Dumbledore’s return, the student body was now sadder than ever to leave for the summer, especially after getting in such high spirits after everything calmed down. Harry especially, even though he had developed a taste for yearly adventures, was feeling blue upon realising he had an entirety of two months of normal problems.

            The day before they were set to leave for home, Harry found himself sitting under a tree outside, alone in the grass, watching the lake and the couple of students who were nearby, either swimming, playing with the Giant Squid, or just walking by, enjoying their last day. He had spent the day with Hagrid, who returned the day after Hermione and the others were restored, but now the boy went to visit him with almost every chance he had. The giant didn’t mind, of course, he welcomed the sudden attention, but he did point out that he wasn’t going anywhere, even if Harry decided to take it upon him to ensure it didn’t happen a second time.

            “Is there room under that shade for me too?” came a girly voice.

            Harry turned his head to the right to see Hermione looking at him expectantly with her tablet held protectively in her hands, pressed against her chest.

            “Are you saying I’m fat?” Harry deadpanned.

            “Your ego hat to fit _somewhere_!” she laughed, sitting down in the grass next to him.

            “I’ll have you know I’ve been using the weights you gave me constantly, so if I’m bigger it’s because I’ve put on muscle, not fat.” Harry brushed up against her shoulder.

            “I’ve heard. How did you manage to function normally after that? And I’m guessing you had to increase the weight gradually for it to work.” Hermione asked.

            “It was horrible at first, I moved so slowly compared to before, and you know what the bracelets do, they make you feel heavier so when you do anything it feels like you’re pushing against yourself.” the boy revealed. “Numbing charms helped a lot in the beginning, before my body got used to it. But now…” he flicked his hand and made the giant rocks near the lake dance in the air. “Now I get to do this without any effort.” he smiled, putting them down, before the students around noticed.

            “That’s amazing!” Hermione exclaimed. “I knew you could do it!”

            “I will go back to them at some point, but a break wouldn’t hurt.” Harry chuckled. “Was there something you wanted to show me?” he pointed to the tablet, at which point Hermione looked around all secretive.

            “Yes, about that… I have found something that I think you need to take a look at.” she said, handing him the device.

            Harry turned on the screen, curious as to what had the girl so hushed up all of a sudden. He was met with a faded image depicting the painting of a man, tall and strong, donned in heavy armour, with a cape behind him and a very familiar object in in hands. It looked differently here, more like a sword, and it was held the other way around, but the handle with the dragon head was quite clear.

            “Hermione, where did you find this?” Harry breathed, looking at her with shock.

            “There’s a display of _World’s Most Magical and Famous Legends_ at the Wizarding History Museum in New York City, containing the original works of many popular storytellers in our world, some even from Great Britain. We lost the oldest of them in the Americas when the war for independence started, but they’ve been found a few decades afterwards and have been restored to what is believed to be their prime state.” Hermione stated. “Well, almost, there are some things lost to time that even magic can’t reproduce.” she took a second look at the tablet. “This one, in particular, is about the legend of the Protector, a great warrior fighting under King Richard I during the Third Crusade. The author says that he fought a dark sorcerer that threatened to destroy both the invading crusaders and the sultanate’s army, preventing him from turning them into the undead, and he did it with the sword forged with the skull of a dragon.” she explained, as Harry scrolled down and read the translation from old English.

            “It looks almost _exactly_ like…” Harry did a double take, scrolling back up for a closer look.

            “Like _your_ armour? Hannah described it to me, and I gathered as much.” Hermione stated. “Anyway, the Protector won against this dark wizard, but then he vanished, never to be seen again. Until now.” she looked at her friend pointedly, and it took the boy several more moments to understand what she was saying.

            “You think _I’m_ the one in the artist’s painting?”

            “Would explain how Nicholas Flamel keeps hinting that he knows you, or _of you_ for some time now, even though you don’t. And how you gained the armour along with the staff, which the Protector is depicted as having both.” Hermione theorised.

            “Hermione, even if there was someone real under that big helmet, their bones wouldn’t even be dust, they would be just _particles_ at this point!” Harry looked distraught. “There is absolutely no way that’s me! I have the awkward baby pictures to prove it!”

            “I’m not saying it’s _you_ physically, I know you weren’t alive a thousand years ago, but it may be related to you more than we know.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “R said that you’re the Guardian, whatever that is supposed to mean, and this Protector guy seems an awful lot like you in the sense that he saves people from dark wizards. The legend puts him as someone with great power, able to do things witches and wizards in his time could not do.”

            “Why isn’t this more widespread then? How did we miss it?” Harry couldn’t believe it.

            “Because it’s just a story, not a well-known one, and there is not factual evidence to it, and Bathilda Bagshot’s ancestors weren’t known for their credulity before the fourteenth century when they started recording history, not writing fables.” Hermione breathed deeply. “We only looked for the science of things so far, it only occurred to me to look for the myths when you started waving around weapons of old magic out of a legend.”

            “This can’t be a coincidence.” Harry shook his head.

            “It most certainly isn’t, you and the person in the legend are connected somehow, but I can’t figure out how. Are you his descendant, his successor, what?” Hermione scrunched up her face in search for an answer.

            “Question is, how does _R_ know about all of this?” Harry quietly uttered. “I think we can establish that the Protector was real, and I’m the Guardian or whatever, but how does R fit into all of this?”

            “They’ve been helping so far, I’ll admit that, but you’re right, it is troubling when you think about it.” Hermione agreed.

            “Well, truth be told, that’s the least of my concern right now. This business with R and mythical figures is nothing compared to adolescent troubles, let me tell you.” Harry tried for nonchalance, but what Hermione said next gave him pause.

            “You mean the fact that you have feelings for Neville?” she asked simply.

            Harry froze, his blood rushing to his head even though his heart felt like it stopped for a dangerous second, and the air in his chest gained weight.

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he managed surprisingly well to lie, but Hermione was smarter than him sometimes.

            “Come now, I’m not the brightest witch of our age for no reason.” she smiled.

            “What, does every girl on the planet have an accurate gaydar or something?” Harry gave in and admitted it.

            “No, we don’t in fact, but some of us know to pay attention to our friends more than others.” Hermione smiled sympathetically. “I’ve seen the way you look at him sometimes, like it’s more than just brotherly affection, like you want him to look at you and smile the way you do when you see him, and you got so upset when you thought he was angry with you after the Arena incident.”

            “It’s no big deal. It’s a schoolyard crush, nothing more.” Harry grumbled in his forearms, resting his hands on his knees. “It’ll pass.”

            “You’re sure?” Hermione lowered her voice. “Because as I said, I’ve seen the way you look at him, and I have to wonder if it’s just a crush anymore. It’s almost as if you’re…”

            “Don’t say it.” Harry closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his arms.

            “Why not?” Hermione put a hand on his back.

            “Because I can’t…” Harry looked up with tears running down his face. “I can’t deal with the fact that he might reject my feelings and lose my friend.” he sobbed.

            “Oh, Harry, sweetie…” Hermione took him in her arms and stroked his hair gently. “I know you’re afraid of that, of course you are, but it’s not fair to Neville to keep him in the dark only because you’re afraid he might not care for you in the same way and it’s not fair to you to keep going like this.”

            “But it’s the only way that I know for sure that nothing will happen.” Harry said, voice muffled slightly. “If I don’t tell him, he can’t say he doesn’t feel the same way and it won’t hurt and he will be my friend.”

            “Yes, if you don’t tell him, nothing will happen. But you know what else happens if you don’t tell him? _Nothing_. That’s just it, Harry, if you don’t say anything, you’re not just closing the possible bad outcome, you’re also closing the possible _good_ outcome!” Hermione tried to encourage him, but it was in vain.

            “There’s no way to know which one it is, ‘Mione.” Harry extracted himself from her grip and wiped his cheeks.

            “You’re unfortunately right, I don’t know if he feels the same for you, he’s surprisingly hard to read with these things, either he hasn’t developed the ability for deep feelings yet or he’s evolved suddenly to the point where he can hide them well, there’s no telling with Neville.” Hermione admitted. “But you’re still not being fair to him; even if he doesn’t share the same level of feelings for you, he will still be your friend, Harry. After everything that happened, you know he won’t abandon you just like _that_.”

            “I can’t take that chance.” Harry shook his head. “I can’t risk what I already have with him on a _maybe_. It’s better than nothing at all. We’re too… We’re too young to feel like this, ‘Mione.”

            “Are we?” Hermione raised an eyebrow. “We live in an era where we’re exposed to everything at once, with no filter to stop us, nothing to prevent our innocence from being taken away, do you think that all of that doesn’t imply _some_ understanding of how it all works? Besides, _young_ isn’t a word that I have ever associated with you in the first place. There was always a weariness with you that seemed _old_ since the day that I’ve met you, and I doubt the rest of us hasn’t grown up at all so far. And if you’re thinking that you don’t understand what love is, _you do_! Everyone knows love, Harry, they just do it differently, so their definition changes. There’s no right description beyond wanting to make another person happy with you in return. The rest is just what you personally value and perceive to be love. Does your definition differ because you’re not experienced? Of course it does! Does it matter any less? Does it make you incapable of romantic feelings or invalidates your understanding of them? _Absolutely not_!” she placed her hand on top of his.

            “Thank you.” Harry could only stare at the brilliant girl next to him. “But I can’t, not yet…”

            “I know I’ve said that there shouldn’t be secrets between friends, but I’m thinking we can keep this one between us until you’re ready. How about that?” she took him in a side-hug and watched the sun dance in the waves.

            “That sounds lovely.” Harry nodded slightly.

            “We’ll always be with you, Harry. No matter what. Remember that.” Hermione added.

            “Love you, ‘Mione.” Harry squeezed her hand.

            “Love you too.” she kissed the top of his head.

            “Even though I’m a brat sometimes?” he added.

            “ _Sometimes_?” she chortled.

            “Most of the time.” he corrected himself.

            “Yes, even then. You love me even when I’m a know-it-all, so I guess we’re even.” Hermione smiled.

            “Guess we are.” Harry laughed.

            “Ready to go back home after all of this?” Hermione sighed wistfully. “I don’t know if it’s scary that I am going to miss this place even after everything that’s happened.”

            “I’m pretty sure there’s a word for liking someplace where bad things happen.” Harry chuckled. “I don’t know, even though we go through a _lot_ of shit sometimes, I really do love this place. It feels like home, sometimes.”

            “I know what you mean.” Hermione added quietly. “I love my family and I love our house, but coming here to learn magic is just… I don’t know, I feel like more of myself when I’m here than when I’m back in London. Maybe with age it gets easier to be who I am and feel at home anywhere I want.”

            “I think you can feel at home at any time so long as you have the people you love around you.” Harry projected.

            “Sometimes I forget you’re actually this scarily smart and insightful person and not just a guy with temper issues.” Hermione agreed.

            “I do have my moments. Fewer recently, true, but I’ll try to take deeper breaths from now on.” Harry admitted.

            “Hey, what are you guys doing here?” Draco came into view with Hannah and Neville in tow. Hermione and Harry extricated themselves from their side-hug and glanced at them in surprise.

            “Just chatting.” Hermione dressed her voice and the others looked at them precariously. Harry knew what it looked like, but it was nowhere near that. Not with Hermione, who was literally like a sister to him, for god’s sake. “How did you know where to look for us?”

            “Does the concept of a _magical_ device that helps you locate other people in this castle completely escape your mind? Rhymes with _flap_ , by any chance?” Hannah rolled her eyes and pointed at her phone, which displayed the Marauder’s Map. “Did you talk to him about…” she eyed the tablet next to them.

            “Yes, I’ve told him about that Protector legend.” Hermione nodded in agreement, making room for them to sit in a circle.

            “How come this stuff always happens to you, Harry?” Neville asked, sitting down next to the boy, and thank mercy that Hermione didn’t even react to that, given her previous topic of conversation with Harry. “It’s like, I know you’re not usually looking for trouble, but…”

            “Trouble usually finds me?” Harry finished for him with an amused expression, sitting on his forearms. “Yeah, I kind of noticed, Nev, thank you for your input.”

            “More like you have a magnet for it stuck up your arse.” Draco sneered.

            “Been looking at my buttocks that often, then, Malfoy?” Harry replied in the same tone.

            “Walked myself right into that one, didn’t I?” Draco groaned and let his head fall back, looking at the leaves while everyone laughed.

            “Yeah, you kinda did.” Hannah agreed with a full smile on her lips, and it was nice to see it again after weeks of non-expressions.

            “You know what, at some point R or something will tell us what that means.” Harry clicked his tongue. “What I’m more interested is what we’ll face next year.”

            “Oh come the bloody hell on!” Neville laughed incredulously. “What could we _possibly_ have to deal with next year now that the basilisk is dead?”

            “You did not just say that.” Hannah went pale. “Neville! You just jinxed it!” she threw dirt on his feet with a flick of her fingers.

            “Hey, no use of Elemental powers or I’ll have you all take a bath in the lake!” Draco warned as some of the soil got on his expensive pants.

            “You’re already sitting on the _ground_ , you pompous arse.” Hermione regarded him with a look.

            “She _swears_!” Harry gasped dramatically. “Knew it! You owe me galleon.” he said to the side to Neville.

            “How could I not, since I spend so much time in your _illustrious_ company?” the bushy-haired girl retorted. “But Neville is right, _what_ will we face next time? Thoughts?” she asked around.

            “Dragons. Got to be, after all of this.” Hannah hummed.

            “We’ve already dealt with dragons.” Draco replied reflexively.

            “ _A_ dragon, and a very little one at that. I meant _plural_.” Hannah said.

            “Now who’s jinxing it?” Neville snorted.

            “If I say the worst things, then by jinxing them I make them not happen at all.” Hannah harrumphed.

            “Look at you, queen of reverse jinx-psychology.” Harry puffed.

            “I bet the Giant Squid will finally go crazy from all the potions we dump in the lake.” Neville joked.

            “What.” Draco frowned instantly.

            “Or start killing students because it finally had enough of us tormenting it.” Hermione laughed and looked in the direction of the students playing with said sea creature in the lake, at which point Draco gasped loudly and a tendril of water flew from the lake and headed straight for Harry, who had barely any time to dodge it.

            “What was that for?!” Harry asked a fuming Draco.

            “You told me I killed it, Potter!” he shouted.

            “What…?” Harry couldn’t find the words and neither could the rest of them.

            “The Giant Squid! You had me believe that I impaled it with my giant ice anchor and I killed it!” Draco continued his retort.

            “I – Draco, I was _kidding_ , oh my god!” Harry laughed wholeheartedly. “I’m sorry, did you think for the _entire year_ that you have killed the Giant Squid in the lake? Someone would’ve said _something_!”

            “I can’t believe you had the audacity…” Draco went red in the face and tried to use the water again, but then he found himself flying through the air, shouting in surprise, before landing with a big splash in the lake, to the amusement of everyone.

            “I believe a bath in the lake was in order for the usage of Elemental powers?” Harry taunted, walking towards where Draco was trying to get up, sputtering water, his hair dripping on his face.

            “You’re lucky my phone is waterproof, Potter!” Draco literally spat, drying himself with a wave of his hand over his body, throwing out his device to a nearby patch of grass.

            “You’re lucky my phone is waterproof, meh-meh-meh.” Harry repeated his words in a mocking tone. “Shut up.” he turned around, but he was then hit in the back of his head with a splash of cold water than soaked his clothes and dripped on his back. “Draco Lucius Malfoy, don’t you _dare_ …” Harry warned, turning around, but he was hit in the face with a tendril of water. Meanwhile, Draco smiled at him tauntingly, hand raised in the air, a couple more tendrils floating vertically next to him.

            “Oh, you’re on, hoe.” Harry gritted, throwing his phone next to Draco’s.

            “Bring it, _bitch_!” Draco sneered, before giving a high-pitched shout as he was thrown in the air then flipped around, before he made the water into a vortex under his feet and regained control, as Harry jumped to him, starting a much more amical water fight than it would’ve likely seemed five minutes ago. Well, relatively amical, given the nature of the two boys, and soon the other three joined in what was the most fun and normal activity they had since they came to Hogwarts.

            Talks about Guardians and Protectors could wait. None of that mattered now. What was important is that they didn’t forget to live, like they did before when Hermione was Petrified. Whatever came next, whatever secrets they had to uncover, whatever threats they faced going forward, those could all shove off for one single afternoon that they had together, being children. Everything else, they would fight together, standing as one, no matter what.

 

 

_8 Months Later_

            The five of them entered the dark room, ready for any nasty surprises. The air was staler here, naturally, had to have been given the circumstances. Dust and age had had their word within these walls, but it would matter not. Their prize was inside, and after so long, to be near it was almost as intoxicating as the air they breathed.

“Are you absolutely sure about this?” Draco asked. “Because once you know, you can’t unknow it. R said…”

            “I’m perfectly aware of what R said, thank you.” Harry pressed on with the same determination as earlier, eager to see this through. Too many mysteries and questions, too much wondering about the truth – it was time for answers, and he had better get some satisfying ones. If so much depended on him, then someone should tell him exactly how.

            “I really don’t like this place, it gives me the ultimate bloody creeps!” Hannah complained.

            “Seconded.” Neville shuddered, looking around the decrepit room full of cobwebs.

            “Thirded, but we have more important things to do.” Harry shut them up as they reached their destination. A pedestal, no higher than his knees, in the centre of the room, but unlike the rest, it stood empty. But Harry knew exactly what he was supposed to do. It had nothing to display because the object was in his possession, had been since he fought the last monster that threatened the school.

            “What now?” Neville asked, but Harry was quicker.

            He called upon the staff, and it appeared to him just as it did countless times before. It vibrated in his hands, trembling with anticipation, and in the blink of an eye, it flew to the pedestal, standing motionless in the air, like it had been drawn by a very powerful magnet there.

            “Nothing’s happening.” Hermione growled. “All this fuss just to stare at it?”

            “We’re missing something.” Neville said.

            “Wait, aren’t the runes supposed to glow or something?” Draco pointed out.

            “Great, now all we have to do is activate the strange, barely-controllable magical artefact and figure out how to use it in this situation.” Hannah rolled her eyes. “The easy one first, of course.”

            “Stupid bloody fucking… _just work_!” Harry shouted, moving his hand in front of him almost automatically.

            He thought of no spell, and he didn’t even try to use his magic this time, it simply poured out of him like a reflex, crashing loudly against the metal staff. There was no light show this time, at least coming from him. No, suddenly the entire room lit up, but there were no torches or lamps, but as if the walls and floor were lighter and brighter.

            And the staff itself started to illuminate, at first with the set of strange runes whose meaning eluded them thus far, but then it gained this sort of aura around it, growing stronger and bigger, until it was nearly blinding.

            A flash, followed by a strange whooshing sound, and the children covered their eyes protectively, lest they lose their vision entirely. They lowered their hands and turned around slowly, to witness something peculiar indeed.

            There were no footsteps to be heard, no shuffling of clothes or an extra breathing sound heard. How could there be, when the person in front of them, who appeared out of nowhere, _couldn’t_ have even be there with them in the first place?

            It just wasn’t possible. Out of all the existential crises the Universe had to throw at them, this one took the fucking cake, ate it, copied the recipe and made a bakery, because what they were witnessing was beyond their realm of understanding.

            Hannah was the first of them to inhale loudly.

            “Y-you’re…” she pointed.

            But the figure only had eyes for one in particular at the moment.

            “Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived. Defender of the Stone. Basilisk Slayer. Guardian of Earth. Welcome.”

            “You can’t be…” Harry looked over. “This isn’t happening, you’re not… You’re supposed to be _dead_!”

            “Is death such a finality? Especially for one such as you, my Lord?”

            “My _Lord_?” Neville whispered to Draco, who could only stare.

            “Don’t bullshit me around!” Harry had enough. “I don’t ruddy well care for anymore cryptic and dramatic statements! You’re dead, and you have been _for the last thousand years_!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLIFFHANGER AGAIN!?!?!
> 
> Hi everyone! Hope you had a wonderful time over the holidays, I know I did. And we have finally reached the end of the second book, the most thrilling ride of writing I have ever been on. I am quite proud of what I wrote so far and where it took me and so I hope that I will continue to improve over time and create even better content for all of you. I am incredibly thankful to the people that took the time to read this and continued to come back for more, as well as to the people that took their time to comment and discuss this story with me. You are all amazing and I love you all. 
> 
> Over 5K hits! I realise it's not that much compared to other works here, particularly because Harry/Neville had never been a popular ship, but to me it's quite frankly scary, I mean if only a fifth of those people actually read the whole thing so far it's still a lot to me. And yes, I love every single one of you. My heart is capable of loving everyone. Fight me.
> 
> To discuss this chapter- oh, boy, where do I begin??? AO3 is telling me that I have around 3.9K characters left in this Chapter Notes section and honestly you know I can't express my thoughts properly into so little. I mean, you have seen the numbers I'm pulling for this story, right??? I talk this much in real life too, I promise. Firstly, I know, the last chapter ended horribly, I know, awful thing to do, but it set up the entire fight sequence with just Draco, Neville and Hannah against the basilisk, which I promised it was going to be more terrifying than canon - something I hope I delivered. It was that moment where I decided that they're absolutely not Harry's little helpers, that they're his allies and that they are people in their own right, fighters and survivors alike. They had to go against a basilisk powered by Riddle powered by Harry and Ginny, that was entirely too much, and Harry before his return wouldn't have fared much better, I guarantee.
> 
> Speaking of, I'm starting to lay down the path to explain what is happening to him and around him. If you've been paying close attention to the little things you probably know where this is going already, but I'll have a confirmation soon enough. In the grand scheme of things, there is more to be seen. This chapter only touches on it and I hope that you will like what I have prepared. I have worked on it for years in my head, after all.
> 
> Hermione's return and her forgiving Harry was really sweet to me, because to her time didn't pass instantly, she was aware when Harry was around and she realised they were both being stupid (Harry more than her, of course) but he apologised and owned up to it. See, the thing is, when I grew up I understood that admitting you made a mistake and making amends can go a long way, and Hermione couldn't stay mad at her friend for very long, not when said friend wouldn't leave her bedside then went to take down the most dangerous creature in the magical land. There might be some trust issues from time to time, but they will all grow up. Collin's scene hit a bit home, because I am Lily and James' age when they died, and I can't imagine being a parent this young, much less leaving behind and orphaned child. To us, it's the outsider's perspective, and I think I speak for many when I say we're Collin during that discussion when we realise that cruelty and hatred result in unspeakable horrors that we never think about.
> 
> Ginny comes more into the play, and she will be a part of this story as we progress, but I feel (and this is from my small list of things I criticise J.K. on) in canon the trauma she experienced was severely overlooked. This isn't one of those things where 'kids bounce back', this is one of the things that scar them for life and that requires help and support to get through. And the gang as well, they're not as ok as they'd have you believe and it's something I definitely talk about during book 3. Acceptance, community, friendship, support... those are the things we need in hard times.
> 
> But enough of that. What is the Guardian? Who is R after all? And who is that mysterious figure they all talk to in the flash-forward? All of that and more in the next instalments, can't wait for you to read them.
> 
> Until next time, I love you all! Hope to write to you soon in Book 3, where I promise it's not going exactly where you think it is. And if any of you want to talk to me, my tumblr is friendswithscarheads, you can absolutely message me at any given time, but at least send a quote or something from here so I'll know you're not a spambot or a porn blog. Well, at least be a gay porn blog if you are a porn one.  
> Kthnxbye


	27. The Visit From Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dursleys have a visitor, one that is sure guaranteed to make breakfast, lunch, dinner and general existence awkward.  
> (WARNING: There is certain language used in this chapter that might be upsetting to some, I know it was to me, but it was used to portray a certain type of person and show how wrong it is to use such language, please proceed with caution.)

            The boy sighed as he sat down at his desk, trying to let out his anxiety and nerves. It was futile, to say the least, but the placebo effect it had on him was worthwhile. And after a long day of making sure everything was almost perfect and in place, nothing out of the ordinary or strange to disturb normal people, it was certainly a relief for his legs when he slumped without further ceremony into his comfy, armchair like seat.

            The clock on his laptop shone mercilessly, as did the date itself, taunting him incessantly with malice. Or so he would like to think, because the corner of the monitor always displayed the time, that was its job to do, had been since the invention of Windows as he knew it, only now he attributed it a malevolent intention and figure, possibly because his brain wanted to personify what he was feeling.

            Quirrell with his schemes and trolls? Piece of cake. Riddle with his possession and attacks? Doable. The basilisk? Preferable. But _this_? Completely unfathomable, abhorrent, beyond the comprehension of the human mind, a thousand fiery deaths were more welcoming than what was about to happen soon.

            “ _Mister Potter, I am receiving a four-way video call through my secure network._ ” the supercomputer, Artpy, announced with her metal-like and monotonous voice, coming from his laptop speakers.

            “Thank you, Artpy. Patch them through.” Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose.

            “ _There is no patching it through, Mister Potter, they are already connected into my security protocols._ ” the computer corrected him.

            “Just answer it, will you?” Harry groaned, already at his wits end.

            “ _Right away, sir._ ” Artpy complied.

            The screen turned to life, as it split into four smaller rectangles, each a live-feed from one of his friends. They were all in their rooms back at their homes, Hermione at her desk like he was, Draco in his bed with his phone, Neville doing physical exercises and Hannah levitating on a platform of earth.

            “ _So nice of you to join us, Potter_.” Draco was the first to speak. “ _Where in blazes were you?_ ”

            “Well, since I live with a normal Muggle family and we have no servants, this may come as a shock to you, Draco, but I was doing _chores_.” Harry reached for the bag of chips near him before sitting back in his chair, with his legs on the desk.

            “ _Yes, well, ever since you freed my former house elf, mother made me work around the house before father hired actual servants for it, so I’m aware what chores are._ ” Draco drawled out, writing on his phone.

            “ _How is Dobby, by the way?_ ” Hermione asked, scrolling at something on her laptop.

            “ _He is adjusting. I should think that the rest of the Hogwarts elves are not too keen with a house elf that_ wants _to be free, but he’s managing._ ” Hannah answered for him.

            “ _Last time we saw him, I got the impression that he would like to work for us. Or at least, Harry_.” Neville groaned as he did his last push up and sat at the desk.

            “He is, sort of. I’m not putting him to active duty all day, but I ask him to run errands for me from time to time.” Harry said, mouth full of chips.

            “ _Still not comfortable with the fact that you have a house elf._ ” Hermione sighed.

            “Relax, it’s not like I am _forcing_ the fellow to do it. And I am paying him, quite handsomely, I might add. And he’s saving most of that money for a fund meant for helping elves who come from abusive families, like him, find a new home and place, so it’s a win-win in Dobby’s books.” Harry rolled his eyes.

            “ _Good._ ” Hermione said forcefully. “ _I’ll come up with more stratagems and directives we could follow on that._ ”

            “Send them over and I’ll look it over with him. In the meantime, we should concentrate on finding out more about this Guardian business.” Harry continued.

            “ _We know there was more than one figure like the Protector, they keep coming up in the vaguest of tales in old wizarding legend, but so far there hasn’t been anything concrete._ ” Neville smacked his lips.

            “ _And R has been unusually quiet this summer, so we can shut down that lead._ ” Hannah agreed, still levitating on her platform.

            “Think they have anything relevant to say only when we’re at Hogwarts? Or facing unknown terrors?” Harry puffed dismissively.

            “ _Or when we’re this close to an answer and we need a nudge, which means we’re way behind the truth on this one. Do we have any working theories about who they might be? I know it took a bit of a backseat when we found out about Riddle, but it should be on our list of things._ ” Hermione sighed.

            “Aside from R being one of us, there is literally no other candidate.” Harry tittered.

            “ _I can positively say that it’s not one of us, Potter._ ” Draco drawled out.

            “Yes, I know, which is why R being anyone else doesn’t work, because how could they know things only we know amongst ourselves? We’re missing something big, and it’s _so_ frustrating that I know how they look like but not who it is!” Harry groaned.

            “ _You know, I’ve been thinking about it… Why that letter, specifically?_ ” Hermione stopped working on her laptop and crossed her arms.

            “ _Ever heard of Pretty Little Liars?_ ” Hannah barked a laugh.

            “ _I have, and A is not R, because R isn’t trying to blackmail us or threaten us over something we did, but the use of the letter must mean something._ ” Hermione said.

            “ _Well, in that show, A is an initial, so maybe R is one as well?_ ” Hannah theorised.

            “As in the first letter of a name?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “I thought as much, but that would be too obvious, one can only need look at the list of students in Hogwarts at the moment and weed out suspects.”

            “ _Unless it’s not a student._ ” Neville muttered.

            “ _You’re not still on the theory that Lupin is R?_ ” Draco looked ready to throw something at the sweaty boy.

            “ _He just let us go fight a basilisk like_ that _. I mean, sure, he was against it at first, but he readily accepted it, not to mention R appeared in Harry’s head afterwards because they left a part of themselves in Harry’s mind, and with whom did we meet before the Chamber?_ ” Neville pushed up his hair from his forehead – did he get a haircut? Because it was shorter than before and it stood up quite nicely.

            “ _If you remember, Snape was also present. And Ronald Weasley at some point._ ” Hannah reminded him.

            “ _If Ron Weasley is R, then I’ll eat my shoe. And Snape doesn’t look like the person that has time for this type of thing – he might be a spy, but a good spy is someone you don’t know they’re there, and R had no qualms about making their presence known._ ” Neville rebutted calmly.

            “I don’t know, Snape is a slimy fellow, no pun intended.” Harry thought out loud. “Although Ron Weasley being R is certainly… Interesting.”

            “ _How so?_ ” Hermione blinked.

            “We’re talking about a bloke that has trouble excelling in Snape’s class, where all you have to do is pay attention, could you imagine if that was all for show and he’s in fact a mastermind with untold knowledge, security disabling skills, root access to Hogwarts’ network and can hide himself from any known magical detection?” Harry continued to eat his snack.

            “ _Careful, you’re drooling._ ” Draco cast him a look through the screen.

            “I can’t pretend I’m not envious of R’s abilities, and if Ron is the culprit, then we’re witnessing the most BAFTA-worthy performance in history.” the green-eyed boy mused.

            A sound from downstairs drew his attention. A distant rumble of things, followed by muffled expletives. Deciding it wasn’t that important, Harry turned back to the screen.

            “ _We’ll figure it out eventually._ ” Hannah blew a sigh. “ _Are you okay, Harry? You look a bit tired._ ”

            “Beyond the fact that I just said I was doing housework until now?” he raised an eyebrow.

            “ _Need we remind you that you’re a wizard and you can speed up the process?_ ” Draco moved around his room.

            “Oh, no!” Harry intoned dramatically. “This time I had to do it by hand, and let me tell you, after years of resorting to use magic instinctively, it’s mental to let that go.”

            “ _Are you grounded or something?_ ” Neville scrunched up his face.

            “Pfft, Vernon and Petunia grounded me exactly _once_ in my twelve years of living with them and I haven’t given them any motive to do so again, nor will I.” Harry puffed. “No, we have a _special_ guest coming tomorrow.” he said with disgust.

            Hermione, who at that point was sketching something on a piece of paper, abruptly stopped what she was doing and accidentally broke the lead of her mechanical pencil, raising up her face with a horrified expression.

            “ _Her?!_ ” she screeched, and Harry felt like he heard her all the way from London.

            “ _What is he talking about?_ ” Draco said loudly while he was climbing his tower of a bookcase for something.

            “She means that my Aunt Marge is coming for a visit. Tomorrow.” Harry revealed.

            This momentarily disrupted Hannah’s concentration and her platform wobbled dangerously under her, before she grasped the edges with her hands and stabilised.

            “ _Whoa – frig… What?_ ” the blonde gasped.

            “And that’s not even the worst part. No, she is staying with us. For a _week_.” Harry looked at the celling.

            “ _Wait,_ the _Aunt Marge? The horrible woman you’ve been avoiding for the past two Christmases is coming to_ your _house?_ ” Draco asked as he jumped down from the bookcase with and orange book in hand.

            “It’s not like I have more than _one_ Aunt Marge, Draco, so yes, the one and the same.” Harry replied tiredly.

            “ _Perish the thought._ ” Neville shuddered at the notion of multiple Marges, and Harry concurred. “ _Why is she, though? We know she isn’t eager to see you…_ ”

            “Trust me, the feeling’s mutual.” the boy said under his breath.

            “ _Let me guess, she misses Dudley._ ” Hermione crossed her arms and sat back in her seat.

            “That one’s not mutual, but yes. Her house needs replumbing and she took it as an excuse for an impromptu visit. And Vernon couldn’t say no to his only sister, despite the three of us protesting, so here we are.” Harry yawned, wiping tears of exhaustion from his eyes.

            “ _I don’t get it, if you all can’t stand her…_ ” Hermione shook her head.

            “ _Uh, I don’t think there isn’t any of us with relatives they don’t like. Mine tortured Longbottom’s parents, if you recall._ ” Draco added.

            “ _Mine are a bunch of old men and women hell-bent on tradition…_ ” Neville continued Draco’s train of thought.

            “ _And mine take every opportunity to remind me to continue what is an old and distinguished bloodline, like I’m some cow ready for breeding._ ” Hannah set down her platform and sat in her chair as well. “ _We all have people in our family that we can’t stand, ‘Mione._ ”

            “ _So, you what, just put up with it? That’s not right._ ” she opposed the sentiment.

            “ _Nobody said it was, but it’s not like_ we _can do anything about it._ ” Neville had a look of sympathy for Harry, which the boy took to heart.

            “ _Well, my parents made sure that any disagreements we have with our extended family we resolve, one way or another._ ” Hermione harrumphed. “ _But back to the matter at hand – Harry, you can’t stay there._ ”

            “ _Okay, we know Marge is horrible, but that doesn’t warrant him leaving his own home. That’s like admitting defeat._ ” Draco perused the contents of his book.

            “Petunia, Dudley and I are not exactly comfortable with her, especially Dudley, who is the unfortunate target for most of her affection.” Harry said. “You have to see it to believe it, she treats him as if he is constantly five years old, and it was funny at first, but now it’s just weird.”

            “ _And she is mean to you, which I’m guessing upsets him._ ” Hermione drew a hand through her hair.

            “Well, yeah.” Harry shrugged. “He never liked anyone making fun of me growing up. Kept getting into trouble with the older kids on the playground because of it.” Harry remembered with fondness.

            “ _Aw, that’s so sweet!_ ” Hannah gushed.

            “He’s like my brother, what would you expect?” Harry looked inquisitively at her. “But if you think Dudley looking out for me is awesome, you should see _Petunia_. Marge once made a nasty comment about me by referring to my parents, and my aunt went absolutely _ballistic._ I have _never_ , in my life, ever heard her shout like that at anyone, she didn’t speak to her for _years_ afterwards.” Harry laughed.

            “ _And you never once fought back?_ ” Draco looked unconvinced.

            “I tend to ignore her, for Vernon’s sake. I did once talk back to her, but before she could say anything, her eyebrows caught fire.” Harry recounted.

            “ _Wait… Did you…?_ ” Neville laughed.

            “She was smoking back then. Not anymore, though.” Harry smiled wickedly.

            “ _Now we only have to worry you’re going to blow her up or something. Great._ ” Hermione rolled her eyes.

            “I’ll be fine. Hating every second of it, but I’ll be fine.” Harry tried to put on a brave face. In truth, the idea that Marge would suffer a magical reproach from him wasn’t out of the question.

            “ _So then why the chores by hand? Because of her?_ ” Hannah remembered.

            “ _Don’t tell me she has a magical detector somewhere on her._ ” Draco sneered.

            “Nothing of the sort, trust me. But she doesn’t know the truth, because she’s Vernon’s family, not mine, and she’s a very… how do I put this nicely… _conservative_ woman. If she was ever to discover magic she would _freak_. And while Petunia enjoys having a literally spotless house whenever I’m around, if Marge didn’t have anything to criticise about her home, then she would turn her attention to me.” Harry explained. “And Petunia was against that notion, so she agreed to have a normal, clean house, one that’s never going to look perfectly out of a catalogue. One that Marge will no doubt find some fault with.”

            “ _So she is an old woman with conservative views and she projects her insecurities and loneliness into attacks on people she sees as defenceless, so you’re giving her something else to focus on._ ” Neville succinctly put it.

            “To put it mildly.” Harry agreed.

            “ _Although, if you really want to deprive her of her fun, you could attack yourself, that way she can’t do anything._ ” Neville continued.

            “ _That sounds as if you’re speaking from personal knowledge._ ” Draco caught on.

            “ _Have you met Augusta Longbottom?_ ” Neville laughed coldly.

            “ _I did. Bloody bint._ ” Hannah replied in the same tone.

            “ _Ditto._ ” Neville clicked his tongue.

            “Whoa!” Harry did a double take. “What’s going on?”

            “ _Lately she’s really been getting on my nerves, she doesn’t approve of my wardrobe at home, claiming it was too Muggle for a wizard of my stature, doesn’t like the way I’m doing my hair now, doesn’t like the fact that I’m no longer in the Gryffindor dorms or the fact that I’m friends with Draco Malfoy, doesn’t like the fact that I don’t have a girlfriend, or that I not am getting top grades in absolutely every class, as if Exceeds Expectations in most with Outstanding in Herbology is me failing my courses, and the cherry on top is that she tried to confiscate my electronic devices last week._ ” Neville counted on his fingers.

            “ _Wait, hold on, pause this shit_!” Draco interrupted. “ _She found out? Why didn’t you tell us?_ ” he asked worriedly, possibly being touched about the fact that Neville defended him in front of his grandmother.

            “ _Because it’s no big deal, she just yelled, threatened to have them thrown out of her home and set them on fire. Of course, she didn’t like it when I reminded her it was my home as well, legally and physically, and that my devices are technically Harry’s and she could be prosecuted for destruction of property and theft if she so much as made a move for my phone._ ” Neville recounted with mirth, and who was this suddenly active and fit person, with a new haircut, almost shaved on the sides and slightly curly and raised on the top, with a devilish smile and surprisingly strong arms – and did Harry’s room gain a thousand degrees in temperature?

            “ _Wow. That took real guts to stand up to her like that. I’m proud of you, Nev._ ” Hermione said with a bright smile, and Harry recounted a time when she was outraged when she found out the boy’s relatives tried to force magic out of him by placing him in danger. Now look at him, all maturing, confident and settling into his own skin.

            “ _So what happened then?_ ” Draco urged him to continue, closing the book.

            “ _Well, after I reminded her that me having a laptop or a phone wasn’t illegal at all and I wasn’t harming anybody, she threatened me with homelessness, I reminded her that I was the only reason she could live in Longbottom Manor in the first place, because she isn’t a descendant of Gryffindor,_ I _am, and she is my legal guardian, so she can’t very well toss me out on the street over a disagreement, not to mention highly irresponsible of her if she did, I threatened back with a detailed accounting of child endangerment over the years from when she and the rest of her family tried to figure out if I was a Squib or not, at which point she lost it and tried to curse at me…_ ”

            Harry stood up straight in his chair and was ready to bash someone’s skull in.

            “ _Excuse_ me?” the green-eyed boy intoned dangerously.

            “ _Calm down, mate, she isn’t the spell caster that she used to be, and I bet she wasn’t planning on me being much of a fighter, because I dodged her hex and then I burned her favourite hat right on her head, along with those ugly drapes she put in the foyer._ ” Neville laughed, as the others looked gobsmacked at their screens. “ _So, after that, I told her to shove it, and we’re currently not speaking to each other. Breakfast is really awkward, let me tell you._ ”

            “ _Just… Who are you?!_ ” Hannah couldn’t believe her ears.

            “ _Someone who put up with my grandmother’s bullshit long enough. With nicer hair._ ” Neville added in true Draco Malfoy fashion, which made the aforementioned boy’s eyes go wide in shock and look around to see if he was on a prank show.

            “We’ve noticed. Looks good on you.” Harry couldn’t stop himself. “So what happens now?”

            “ _By now I believe she is attempting to punish me by taking away my allowance, which had been increased to the huge sum of 20 galleons._ ” Neville spoke sarcastically. “ _Neither of us has access to my assets as Lord Longbottom/Gryffindor, because I’m too young and she just married into it and has lost her privileges as Lady Longbottom once grandfather died and dad became Lord, then when I became Heir and my parents were out of the picture, she wasn’t Dowager anymore, just my guardian. Trouble is, it’s only a matter of time before I get the title and the inheritance, and she knows it, so she hopes that by taking away my meagre pocket cash, I would want to fall back in her good graces. Unfortunately for her, she isn’t aware that I have Harry Potter money now._ ” the boy chuckled.

            “Technically Philosopher’s Stone money. Which we _all_ share.” Harry corrected him.

            “ _Yeah, but it is yours after all._ ” Neville countered.

            “Maybe, but I gave you all cards and access to the account so that you could do whatever you wanted with it.” the green-eyed boy quipped.

            “ _Is that so?_ ” Draco jumped. “ _Because I just saw an ad for this lovely chateau overlooking the Côte d'Azur…_ ”

            “ _Then_ buy _it!_ ” Hannah groaned. “ _We have literally infinite money with the Stone. Also, a chateau? Really? Could you_ be _any more posh?_ ”

            “Right, we just have to get over that pesky little problem of not being able to legally sign documents for another few years.” Harry put a stop to the fantasies.

            “ _I actually looked to buy a place for myself after my spat with grandmother, but sadly you’re right, we can’t technically own a place in our own name._ ” Neville sighed. “ _Oh, well, still got that unending source of gold._ ”

            “Right… Just be grateful I’m not taking away your allowance, Nev.” Harry joked.

            “ _Why, Mister Potter!_ ” Neville intoned dramatically, making everyone snicker. “ _However would I get back into your good graces then?_ ”

            But before Harry could express a few creative choices for making it up to him, a knock on the door interrupted them. Dudley opened the door, looking very pleased with something.

            “Hi.” his cousin said simply.

            “Hi.” Harry said with a questioning look. “Well, come in, you’re letting in a draft.” he motioned him inside, at which Dudley complied and closed the door behind him, joining Harry at the desk. “Oh! These are my friends, the ones from school. These are Draco, Neville, Hannah and Hermione.” he motioned from left to right on his screen. “Mates, this is Dudley.”

            “ _Hi, Dudley!_ ” they all greeted the other boy.

            “Nice to finally meet you. Well, sort of.” Dudley laughed. “If you can count interacting on a digital platform through video call _meeting_ , I suppose.”

            “ _Merlin, there’s_ two _of them._ ” Draco groaned with all his might.

            “ _It’s uncanny._ ” Hannah looked frozen.

            “What’s their deal?” Dudley gestured with his thumb and a raised eyebrow to the screen.

            “They’re surprised we’re so much alike in behaviour and gestures, although why that is I’m not sure.” Harry chuckled.

            “Given that we literally grew up with each other? Gee, wonder why.” Dudley rolled his eyes affectionately.

            “It’s not like we’re clones, but we do share some things.” Harry pondered. “Anyway, what’s with the look on your face?” he gestured.

            “Ah.” Dudley snickered. “Well, I came upstairs because mum needs your help with something.” he said cryptically.

            “If it’s about the permanent wine stain on the corner of the carpet, tell her I brought it back for the household critique session tomorrow and it will be gone by next week.” Harry rolled his eyes.

            “No, not that, although don’t tell her about it, the surprise when Marge no doubt points it out must be genuine.” Dudley placated him. “Do you remember that fugly vase she got us for Christmas a few years back?” he rested his left hand on the desk and put the right one in his pocket.

            “The one with the birth of Jesus Christ?” Harry inquired, crossing his legs and resting his elbow on the armrest.

            “Yes, that large abomination that mum says it doesn’t fit anywhere in the house.” Dudley barely maintained himself.

            “Why would – oh no… Did you _break_ it?” Harry gasped.

            “No, not _me_.” his cousin said slowly.

            “Then who? Oh my god!” Harry put his hands on his face. “No!”

            “Yep.” Dudley nodded with a smile. “Dad did it. By accident. He was taking it out of the closet under the stairs when he tripped on the mop.”

            “Oh, so _that’s_ what I heard earlier!” the green-eyed boy realised.

            “He’s totally beside himself. Mum had to step out of the hallway to laugh. I don’t know how she managed to get a sentence out enough to ask me to call on you.” Dudley chuckled.

            “Alright, alright, I’m coming to the rescue, lest Vernon die of despair.” Harry stood up. “I’ll see you guys later.” he bid goodbye to his friends.

            “ _Good luck with the religious nutter, Harry!_ ” Hannah said.

            “ _No offence, mind you._ ” Neville chided her.

            “None taken, Neville.” Dudley winked at the screen as Harry turned off the call.

            “Come on, let’s fix the vase.” Harry sighed.

            “Do they know about Marge?” Dudley thought to ask.

            “To some extent.” Harry said airily as he exited his room with his cousin in tow. “If I did tell them everything they’d probably bust down the door and insist I bunk with one of them for the week.”

            “Lucky you.” Dudley sighed as they walked. “I can’t escape her for the life of me. She just _loves_ pinching my cheeks and calling me silly names.”

            “Horrible.” Harry agreed but then stopped in his tracks. “Also, if you so much as wink like _that_ at Neville Longbottom again, horrible is what I will do to you.” he threatened.

            “Wait… is he your boyfriend?” Dudley smiled wickedly.

            “No, he’s not my _boyfriend_ , Dudley, I just don’t want you to flirt with my friends.” Harry went red in the cheeks.

            “First off, I wasn’t flirting, I’m not into guys, and secondly… you like him, don’t you?” he pushed the boy playfully.

            “Well, have you _seen_ him?” Harry defended himself.

            “Not half-bad, Potter. So why don’t you do anything about it?” Dudley asked.

            “It’s complicated.” Harry sighed and resumed his pace.

            “Right, you take down basilisks but asking out someone you like is hard?” Dudley guffawed.

            “Keep your voice down!” Harry shushed him as they reached the stairs. “I don’t want Vernon and Petunia finding out what I do on my extracurricular activities.”

            “For the nth time, they’re not going to find out!” Dudley whined. “Although if was as dangerous as you say it was, how _did_ you manage to kill one?”

            “That is a story for another day, when you learn to keep quieter.” Harry went down. “Duddykins.” he added for good measure.

            “Not funny.” came the response.

 

            The next morning, a few minutes before the dreaded woman was supposed to arrive, aunt Petunia was pacing around the living room, while Dudley and Harry were on the couch, watching the TV.

            “You’re going to scratch the floorboards if you keep that up, mum.” Dudley sighed. “Or just do it and then add it to the list of things Harry will have to repair once Marge is gone.”

            “Yes, call upon your personal servant, Harry Potter, the magician of the household.” Harry drawled out, busy talking to his friends who were trying to out-meme each other. “Why wear high-heels indoors?”

            “Because I have to look nice and respectable.” Petunia added with tiredness in her voice.

            “But are the heels the ‘desired length’?” Harry scrunched up his face to make-up a drunken posh person.

            “Oh, bother, you’re right! Dudley sweetie, do they look too long for a woman my age?” she looked at her feet.

            “Oh my god, I was kidding.” Harry drawled.

            “You’re 36, not 60!” Dudley made a face. “’Woman of your age’… you’re fine!”

            “You could be 22 and still be a sleazy wench if you have heels over five centimetres.” Harry said, typing something on his phone, when he realised all the eyes were upon him. “Her words, not mine!” he defended himself. “You’re fine, aunt Petunia, you look lovely.”

            “Thank you, dear.” she responded, resuming her pacing around.

            “Since when do you use the metric system?” his cousin thought to ask.

            “Since it’s easier and since we had to calculate something using it and we just stuck with it.” Harry shrugged.

            “By _them_ , you mean your criminals from St. Mungo’s?” Dudley puffed.

            Harry sighed, remembering the cover they decided for his school. They couldn’t very well say that he went to Smeltings like Dudley when he started Hogwarts, so Harry decided to use the wizarding’s hospital name as a cover. Although Vernon thought to use it as a means to say that Harry went to a ‘special’ school for people like him, Marge took it as a polite means to say that it was a place for ‘troubled’ people, not ‘gifted’ as his well-meaning uncle intended for it to sound. Thus, it stuck that Harry was a problematic child and needed special care.

            “Yes, me and my degenerate friends, Dudley.” Harry closed his eyes momentarily to concentrate on pushing back the bile in his throat. “Thank you for reminding me.”

            “Are you sure they’re not too high?” Petunia asked again.

            “I have heels higher than yours, you’re perfectly fine.” Harry chuckled.

            “ _Whoa_ …” Dudley turned to him slowly, mirth in his eyes.

            “Not like _that_ , you idiot!” Harry slapped him lightly on the shoulder with the back of his hand. “I meant my Doc Martens. Shut up!” he gritted when he saw Dudley’s expression of amusement.

            “I didn’t say anything.” Dudley said with false innocence.

            “Did you remember to hide your video games?” Petunia remembered.

            “Yeah, they’re in Harry’s room. Did you remember to hide _yours_?” Dudley countered.

            “In the attic – what is stored physically, at any rate.” his mother replied. “Ugh, why does Vernon _insist_ on spending more time with that _woman_ than it is necessary? Once a year is more than enough, I can put up with it, it’s his family for crying out loud… You were lucky two years ago when you stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas, an _entire_ week with Marjorie Eileen Dursley is positively _mortifying_!” Petunia ranted.

            “Yes, I’m aware.” Harry agreed, but his aunt was not done.

            “And not only do we have to hide your magic, but who we are as people! We have to be these pretend versions of ourselves around her, _constantly_ , because if we aren’t she will start spewing her religious fanaticism and criticise _my_ house and the way I raise _my_ children, as if I am sending you straight to damnation if I have the sex talk with you two!”

            “Do not need a repeat of that. We have the internet now, it’s fine, you’ve done your duty.” Dudley shuddered.

            “And she is so… _vitriolic_!” Petunia complained, still pacing around. “And _hateful_ … Just… _hateful_! For no reason! Did you know that Naomi Peters-Trudeau _still_ won’t talk to me after what Marge said to her the last time she was here?” she asked her boys.

            “Wait, is _that_ why Oliver’s mums wouldn’t let him come over?” Dudley gaped.

            “They think we’re _homophobes_!” Petunia cried. “Me! Who marched at Pride during college and donates to youth centres regularly! As if I would teach my own boys to hate someone for loving differently!” she threw her hands up, and Dudley gave his cousin _a look_. “And here I am, letting that kind of hate come right through my doorstep. And I’m _actually_ supposed to cook for it! Bollocks… You did not hear me say that!” she turned immediately to her two children, who shook their heads.

            “No, ma’am.” they both said.

            “Oh…” she rubbed her face. “When will Vernon finally admit that three quarters of this family just doesn’t _like_ that woman?”

            “If it makes you feel any better, she doesn’t think of me as family, so I doubt _my_ opinion matters here.” Harry turned off the TV as soon as he heard the car pull of the driveway.

            “Oh, Jesus Christ on a wheel, they’re here.” Petunia breathed, looking out the window on the door. “Oh, I shouldn’t take the _Lord’s_ name in vain. Harry…”

            “I’ll refrain from saying the 'm' word.” her nephew replied automatically, putting his phone away and moved behind his aunt, using her as a shield of sorts.

            “I meant to say ‘be careful’, but whatever works for you.” Petunia took a few deep breaths. “Dudley, sweetie, be a good lad and stand up straight.”

           

            Two seconds of quiet, the calm before the storm. Then…

            The door opened suddenly, and the sounds of the rain became louder, but they were nothing to the cacophony of greetings from a large, elderly woman, dressed in a tweed outfit shoving her umbrella to the side as she grabbed a suddenly charming Petunia into a hug. She only reached to her chin, so Harry’s aunt had to bow slightly to kiss her cheeks.

            “Hello, my _darling_ Petunia, dear!” came the fake voice of happiness trapped within a fat neck.

            The sounds of multiple feet scraping the floor followed, as a large English bulldog entered the area, tracking multiple paw prints on the wood, the carpet, and finally the couch, where it settled with scary accuracy.

            Finally, Uncle Vernon came into view, sans umbrella and carrying two suitcases behind him.

            “And is that my darling Duddykins!” Marge positively screeched as she attacked a poor Dudley, who had no choice but to accept her thousand sloppy kisses on his head.

            All the while, Petunia, ever the gracious host, accepted the circus and the mud tracked into her house by the dog without a faltering smile. It was _frightening_.

            “Pet, Harry.” Vernon greeted them warmly as he closed the door and set down the heavy suitcases.

            “Vernon.” came the double response in the same gritted tone.

            “Alright, I deserve that one…” he sighed.

            “It took me three hours to talk you into letting Hedwig in, you wouldn’t even let Dudley have a _hamster_ in this house because you have a thing against fur, and now we have to accommodate for a _dog_?” Petunia asked through her teeth, ready to intervene at Dudley’s signal if his aunt’s attention was too much.

            “Well, I…” Vernon sputtered.

            “We will discuss this. _Later_.” Petunia added.

            “Don’t look at me.” Harry laughed with a short breath when his uncle turned to him for support.

            “Oh, you’ve grown up so big and strong! Just like your father! Oh, but I wish you wouldn’t sometimes, and just go back to when you were small enough to fit in my arms!” Marge continued her babying of Dudley. “Petunia, dear, I’m so sorry for the mess, but I just couldn’t let my poor Ripper behind!” she finally let go of her nephew and addressed her sister-in-law. “Colonel Filibuster is looking after the rest, but my sweet just pines for me so when I’m away, you could just hear him whine like a sinner in church the moment I walked out the door!” she explained.

            “It’s no bother, Marge, I’ll just have Vernon go by the store and pick some items up for little Ripper.” Petunia forced herself to stay calm.

            “Oh, how wonderful, thank you Petunia, you are so gracious sometimes, and you have fit into the role of a housewife quite nicely! I did tell you that you were better suited at it than that rubbish columnist job of yours that you so arduously wanted to have.” Marge said without pause.

            “Thank you, but I’m still a journalist, Marge.” Petunia shook off the jab.

            “Oh, well, we all have our little hobbies to keep us occupied.” Marge waved her off and Harry wanted to move with his power the poker near the fireplace, lest Petunia stabbed the other woman with it. But she remained poised and calm through it all.

            And then the dreaded event happened. Marge scanned the room and her eyes landed on Harry, and he faced the woman for the first time in years. She looked the same, small, pig like eyes with a big nose, hair on the upper lip, crinkles between her brows and short hair that looked like it wanted to kempt, but it looked like a messy wig, even though Harry knew it was real. And her face shifted from delight to contempt, features mutating into an ugly scowl to match the rest of her, body and soul.

            “You’re still here, aren’t you?” Marge said with a hint of disgust.

            There she was. The older sister of Vernon Dursley, a woman that for the life of him, Harry couldn’t understand why she had animosity towards him. He had done _nothing_ in all the time that he knew her to give her a motive for behaving so antagonistically towards him. Except existing, Harry supposed, an outsider into _her_ family, an orphan with no other relations, a leech on his brother’s finances and a no-do-gooder in her eyes, that wanted to take Dudley’s place.

            Before, when he didn’t know that he was a wizard, Harry actually _feared_ her. She was taller than him, had an imposing voice and every time he did something even _remotely_ wrong she wasted no time in telling him, calling him all sorts of names and lamenting about the state of the degenerates in the country that threatened the traditional family with their presence. She had once grabbed him by the ear for forgetting to put his dinner plate in the sink and wash it, when in fact he went to grab himself a glass of water and was going to do it anyway. He was _six_.

            But now, she was as tall as him, as he continued to grow and she shrunk down with age, her eyes didn’t instil that same feeling inside of Harry. He had stood up to Dark Lords and ancient beasts, what was she? An old woman, scared of change, scared of not mattering anymore and that took out her misery on the world. Something inside of him changed, and his dread upon having to spend a week with Marge was suddenly gone, just like that. He remembered Neville’s words about taking her fun out of it, and he wasn’t about to diminish himself in front of _her_ , but there were others ways. After years of torments, sicking dogs on him or belittling him to no end, Marjorie Dursley was finally going to learn that Harry Potter had no interest in being afraid of her any longer. This was going to be _fun_.

            “Yes.” Harry replied without any tone.

            “Don’t say _yes_ in that ungrateful tone!” Marge dropped the charade of a pleasant woman. “My brother and his wife took you in, put a roof over your head, fed you and clothed you out of the goodness of their hearts!” she intoned dramatically. “The good Lord is always testing, my dears,” she addressed the other two adults, “but I shudder to think what was His plan when He sent you this boy!”

            “I guess we’ll never know. Mysterious ways and all that.” Harry sighed wistfully, at which point his actual relatives whipped their heads towards him, regarding him as if he lost his mind. “Shall I take your luggage upstairs, Marge?” he asked, and did it anyway, without waiting for a reply, leaving behind a sputtering woman. Dudley gaped the _whole_ time. Priceless.

           

            What followed was a trying week for the Dursleys. Day one had already seen Marge trying to establish her dominance over the family, particularly Harry, who was supposed to be the runt of the litter. When that failed, spectacularly, Marge had tried again and again to coax out a reaction of the boy, expose him as the unstable delinquent she saw him as, but Harry would not budge, keeping up his unbothered demeanour and quipping back when he could.

            The thing was this: Marge couldn’t _openly_ treat Harry like less that dirt, not unless she wanted Petunia’s wrath upon her, and no God could save her then. She also didn’t want to upset her brother by doing it, but she couldn’t help it, she just had to jab at Harry and talk down to him all the time for reasons of her own, but refrained from actually _saying_ something that was completely out of order. In return, Harry didn’t refrain from showing that he couldn’t care less what she thought about him, but did so as subtly as he could, without actually putting it into words. She couldn’t get to him like that and he let her know each and every time.

            Day two was when Dudley had to feign forgetting to do a school project so he left for the library, after being suffocated under Marge’s affection. He nearly slipped and called her out, before Harry quickly intervened and entered the room with a Lady Gaga shirt on, prompting a never-ending discussion about parading in strange outfits in front of billions of people and promoting unnatural behaviour, which gave Dudley the chance to escape, but left Petunia with her vein at the temple throbbing all day.

             Day three saw Ripper destroying Vernon’s expensive leather shoes before peeing in them with no shame. His uncle was ready to cry and throw the dog out, but Harry repaired the situation, by fixing the shoes with his magic, carefully out of Marge’s sight, and spelling the dog’s collar to make him relieve himself outside whenever the need arose; it would not do for the dog to assert his territory over the house plants of god forbid the flowers on the front lawn, so Harry carefully spelled the collar to direct the dog to an unremarkable place on the back fence. Hannah was most helpful in this endeavour.

            By day four, Harry thought Petunia was going to lose it marvellously. Marge was getting tired of not putting Harry in his place and came to the conclusion that he wasn’t quite right in the head. Which was undoubtedly true, on some level, but not for the reason she thought. Of course, her version of not being mentally sound was the fact that the boy wouldn’t let her get to him, because in her mind, normal was when she managed to make Harry feel like shit. Pathetic. But then came a very famous line, one that was sure to land the boy in Azkaban forever if he reacted to it.

            “Nothing against your family, Petunia, but there is a bad egg almost every time! And your nephew is no exception! And I'm sorry to say, but it's not the father. It’s the same with dogs: if there’s something wrong with the bitch, then there’s something wrong with the pup!” Marge said from her seat at the table while Petunia was cutting vegetables on the counter for their dinner.

            And Marge should really thank her lucky stars that Harry was in the vicinity, because she had just insulted Petunia’s dead sister to her face, while she had a bloody _knife_ in her hands. Petunia looked downright _murderous_ the second Marge’s words hit her, she gripped the handle tight and her lips disappeared into a thin white line. But before anything could happen, and he really dreaded what _could’ve_ happened, Harry decided false nicety was not going to cut it here, he had to respond in kind.

            “Speaking from personal experience, Marge?” he entered the kitchen, took a spoon and pretended to rummage the fridge for a snack, then took a stracciatella yogurt he managed to find, before eating while resting his back on the fridge door. He let a second pass as the true meaning of his words sunk in, before saying: “As a dog breeder, I mean.”

            Thankfully, before the woman managed to reply something nasty, Vernon came home and interrupted the proceedings, even though Marge would definitely not let that one go. Petunia, however, said nothing of the incident, but instead bought a dozen stracciatella yogurts as thanks.

 

            It was, however, at the end of day five, when it happened. They were all sitting in the kitchen, trying to enjoy their meals in peace, while the TV blared something just to make up for background noise, otherwise there would only be the sounds of cutlery and quiet, only broken by Marge occasionally when she talked with her dog.

            "Would you like a little bit of brandy, Ripper?" she asked her pet, as she lowered her drinking glass and let the animal drink alcohol from it directly. "A little bit of brandy-pu-pu-pu!" Marge made various noises at her Ripper, prompting everyone to stare at her incredulously. Especially Harry, who scrambled his brain to remember if brandy was good for dogs. Inevitably, she caught his eye. "What are you smirking at?" she dropped her voice.

            "At nothing, Aunt Marge." Harry said politely, but Dudley caught the implication that Marge was the _nothing_ his cousin was staring at.

            "I'm not your aunt, boy!" Marge momentarily forgot that she was the one that insisted on the title to begin with, but perhaps her frustrations, fuelled by her heavy drinking, spurred her on.

            "I was only trying to address you with respect for once, but you're right, clearly a mistake." Harry replied airily.

            "That's enough out of you, Harry." Vernon admonished him.

            "Yes, children should be seen and not heard.” Marge drunkenly slurred, somehow managing to keep upright, in spite of the brewery sloshing in her stomach. “Oh, all finished with your meal, sweetums?” she addressed the dog.

            “Here, Marge, let me…” Petunia tried to stand up.

            “Oh, there is no need, my dear.” Marge made her sit down forcefully. “You!” she snapped her fingers. “Clean it up!”

            Harry knew perfectly well that this was a test and that the line was directed at him. And yet, he didn’t move from his seat and gave no indication that he heard her, as he continued to eat in silence. Screw her.

            “I said clean it up!” Marge bellowed, finally losing it as she was ignored. At least when Harry retorted she got attention, now all she met was a stone wall.

            “Margie…” Vernon tried to warn her, but it was too late.

            “Ungrateful, unwashed little degenerate! I said pick up the plate, _immediately_!” Marge slammed her hand on the table with force, making everything clang against each other. “Why, I would teach you some manner right now if…”

            “Were you talking to me?” Harry wiped his chin calmly and regarded her with a cold look and it silenced everyone else that looked ready to protest at Marge’s drunken anger. “Or were you talking _at_ me? Terribly sorry, with the lack of _your_ manners I get the two confused.”

            Dudley snickered and Petunia looked shocked, while Vernon just felt out of place, not knowing what to do.

            “When you address me, you can use my given name, Harrison, Potter, or even a modicum of the usage of the proper way of talking to a fellow human. I’m not some _puppy_ you can order around and kick whenever you feel sorry for yourself, Marjorie.” Harry said in an even voice.

            “Harry…” Petunia tried to stop him, sensing that this was the rare occasion on which he would see her nephew fight someone. Whether she was afraid for him or her sister-in-law, the boy couldn’t say. Vernon, on the other hand, looked between the two, unsure how to proceed in this unprecedented situation, in which his polite, bright nephew went head-to-head with his sister.

            “Now _see here_ …!” Marge yelled but Harry talked over her without raising his voice.

            “I am not your _servant_ , if you want me do to something for you, then you can _ask_ me nicely like a normal person would.” the boy said.

            “You’re a _guest_ in my brother’s home, _boy_ …” Marge drew in a large breath.

            “As are you.” Harry interrupted her. “Yet I don’t see you picking up after your own mess.”

            “How _dare_ you!” Marge screeched. “I am his _sister,_ related to him by blood, you are nothing more than an orphan boy he took it, and what do you do? You don’t even take the time to do a simple chore, oh, _Vernon_ , why do you put up with this sort of rabble?” she wailed to her brother.

            “He is my nephew, Margie!” Vernon boomed, _finally_ defending his family and they couldn’t be prouder. “And he is right, you could ask if you want something, I am positive Harry would do it because he is a nice kid, not a delinquent!”

            “He’s a complete _brat_. Look at him, standing there, smugness in his face! You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, you piece of…!” Marge went wide-eyed at her brother standing up to her and took it out on Harry.

            “ENOUGH!” Petunia roared in a high-pitched voice, standing up. “You will _not_ speak to my son that way!”

            “ _Dudley_ is your son, woman!” Marge rebutted. “I am so sorry that you’re hearing this, Duddykins, your delicate ears must be hurting after hearing your own mother yell like that in your presence…” she made a motion to touch Dudley, but the boy _slapped_ her hand away.

            “I am not _bloody_ five, Marge, stop treating me like it!” Dudley yelled at her, and Harry could see the utter heartbreak in her face. “And I don’t like the way you talk to my mum, or treat my dad, or the way you’ve been acting with Harry ever since he came here! He’s done _nothing_ to you in all these years, and you still treat my brother like _shit_ for just being there! And until you apologise to him and make up for it, I don’t want anything to do with you!” the boy pushed his chair away and exited the kitchen with thunderous steps.

            All the while, Petunia looked like she could cheer, Vernon fumbled for something to do and Marge followed her nephew with her eyes, hand halfway to her face, lips trembling. But she recovered rather quickly and set the eyes on the culprit.

            “You vile snake, you devil… YOU POISONED MY FAMILY AGAINST ME!” she accused him.

            And with that, Harry concluded that Petunia’s dinner was completely ruined.

            “You’re doing a very good job at that yourself!” Petunia finally lost control.

            “Of course you would take his side! You were always a _fag_ lover yourself!” she pointed at Harry, which set off a very dark feeling in his chest. “Always with that _love is love_ crap you just adore prancing about, corrupting the young minds of children, telling them it’s alright to be _abominations_ , perverts and sinners, that they should be allowed to _enjoy_ faecal sex with one another, spread their diseases on us! You taught that to my young Dudley, and you let him with that _freak_ in front of you so he could _violate_ him!”

            “Marge, that is _enough_ …” Vernon clenched his fists, but she wasn’t done.

            “And _you_!” she turned on him as well it seemed. “Her I can understand, she wasn’t raised like us, never understood the importance of church and community and goodness, not with that sister of hers, but you should know better! I told you, I told you when you gave my boy _his_ name it would bring the Devil in him! Now look at what you’ve done!”

            It was as if the air shifted upon itself, and a stillness that lasted a century washed over them in the next second. Harry was at a loss for words, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think about what to say… The absolute look of hatred of Marge’s face made him feel something he had never encountered, rage and fear at the same time, coiling down in his belly like a prickly vine that threatened to slice him in half. Petunia looked about the same, all those words disarmed her.

 

            But nothing could prepare them for Vernon’s reaction.

            The man began crying, trembling shoulders, as his face had gone whiter than a sheet.

            “How _dare_ you bring him up?” he said in a low voice that sent coldness down Harry’s spine. “How dare you speak of him like that?”

            “Vernon, what is she talking about?” Petunia looked suddenly worried for her husband.

            “Oh, he didn’t tell you?” Marge stopped yelling and looked entirely too pleased with herself, still holding her glass of brandy like it was a life line. “He named your son after our _brother_ , our older brother, who was the faggiest fag the world had ever seen. But not visibly, _oh no_ , no one suspected him of being one, not until he was found with the priest’s lad. They send the latter away to a place where he could be better, and that priest’s son finally saw the light and rejected his depravities. But not our brother!” she laughed coldly. “No, he didn’t want to come back into the light, not even after everyone saw him as the _freak_ he was. He was always odd, just like Potter, always nice and welcoming, always wanting to help others, and all the while he wanted to spread his perversions into the house of the Lord Himself! The only good he ever did the world was when he hung himself in his closet, where he should’ve stayed! Good riddance, if you ask me, one less…” Marge was on a roll, enjoying the way she tormented her brother and his wife with her tale.

            But her words were stopped short, as the glass in her hand _exploded_ with a resounding _crack_ , dozens of shards landing on her lap. Everyone jumped at the sound, except for a certain someone – Harry was standing with his right arm extended, directly across from the steak knife planted firmly on the wall. He had silently called in his hand from the counter then launched it towards Marge in a split second, with a single precise movement that didn’t require much of his power to direct.

            Marge brought a tremoring hand to her right cheek. The knife went through the space between her glass and her head, shattering her drink, but also leaving behind a small, superficial, hairline like cut on her face that started to bleed slowly. She regarded her attacker with utter _terror_ , as did the other two occupants of the room. Harry slowly and carefully said his piece.

            “You are a _vile_ and _monstrous_ , and deserve to be put down. _SHUT UP_!” he roared at the dog who started barking when he saw his mistress in danger, but whined when Harry invoked the wrath of magic upon him and the whole room shook for half a second. “If I see you again, if I _ever_ see you again as long as I live, I will make sure you will regret it. You want me to be a degenerate so bad? _Fine_. I will be the dangerous individual you see me as. Because if you so much as open your gaping hole of a mouth in my presence to speak, this _faggot_ as you’ve put it, will kill you. Do you understand what I’m saying, you stupid bitch? Because I am not joking, I am not exaggerating in the slightest – me, a horrendous homosexual will _kill_ you if I catch sight of you in the future, and I will do so with my bare fucking hands. Do you _hear_ me, you evil cunt? _BLOODY NOD_!” he roared yet again and Marge tried her best to convey her understanding, while fending off a heart attack. “Good.” Harry said with a note of finality, leaving the kitchen to go upstairs in his room.

            “Harry…” his aunt tried to stop him with a broken voice, but he ignored her.

 

            Now he had done it. And it had been ultimately his fault. If he hadn’t taunted Marge this past week, if she didn’t have to up her game because Harry just wouldn’t take her verbal abuse and bear with it for a few days, then he wouldn’t have lost the control he thought he had, wouldn’t have hurt the woman and they would all be on with their lives as normal. But no, he had _pride_ , he had the notion that Marge shouldn’t be able to put him down if she wanted to, and now he had severed ties with the woman for the rest of his life, at the expense of his family.

            But Harry didn’t force Marge to say all those things, and he didn’t make her be the way she was. He might’ve _pushed_ her buttons a bit, for fun, but she was the one who viewed people like him as less-than-human, meant to be burnt at the stake, bullied her brother, sneered at her sister-in-law, coddled a teenage boy to the point where she infantilised him… And yet, Harry suspected it wouldn’t have been half as worse if he wasn’t there.

            He got to his room, closing his door and sealing it with protective magic, as he committed to his plan. There was no turning back now.

 

            Sometime around 2 AM, Harry levitated down the stairs in the silent of the night, the stillness of the darkness giving him succour and a weird calm that he could’ve used before. He didn’t hear it, thanks to a few two-way silencing charms, but he had guessed a few more shouting matches had occurred. That, or everyone just cleaned up the table in utter silence. Marge was in her room still, and there was a high-chance that she wasn’t coming out for the time being, not after what happened.

            A strange sight caught Harry’s attention to the living room: a lamp on one of the end tables was lit dimly, the only source of light in an otherwise dark room. Someone was on the couch, holding something akin to a small pamphlet, watching it intently.

            “Thought you would be asleep by now.” Harry entered the living room.

            “Oh, Harry!” Vernon jumped slightly. “Didn’t hear you come down.”

            “No, you wouldn’t have.” Harry chuckled lightly as he sat down next to his uncle. “What’s that?” he motioned with his head towards what the man was holding.

            “This?” Vernon sighed deeply. “This is my brother.” he handed what was actually an old photograph of a handsome young man to Harry. He looked much more like Dudley than the boy would’ve thought, same dimples and hair, same nose… He was in a white shirt that was neatly tucked into his khaki pants and was somewhere at the edge of a forest. “That is Malcom, a few months before he died.” Vernon smiled sadly. “I remember the day my dad took this picture of him, we were out camping, but I was terribly afraid of the dark woods and what was in them. Actually, I think I was afraid of the dark itself, come to think of it. That night, he took me on a hiker’s path and taught me to never be afraid of what I can’t see, and that everything has a beautiful side to it. I was still petrified, of course, but he never let go of my hand.” Vernon recounted with a strange tone in his voice, and Harry could almost see himself being there, walking on a trampled, dirty course through tall trees with a young man and his little brother, as the elder showed him that the unknown wasn’t all that bad if you opened up to it every once in a while.

            “He sounds like he was a wonderful person.” Harry handed back the photo.

            “He was.” Vernon agreed, tears in his eyes. “He was brave and selfless, always looking out for me and Marge, always kind and patient, always loving and supportive…”

            “Then why didn’t you tell us about him? In all this time, I have never known you had an older brother.” Harry asked.

            “Because I was ashamed.” Vernon admitted, not meeting his nephew’s eyes. “I hated him for a long time after he did it, I couldn’t understand how he could be so selfish to leave us. It destroyed us, Harry. Dad got drunk with every chance, my mother closed herself off, and you saw how Marge turned up. And I hated him for choosing to die like that, hated that he was different and thought that being of the ordinary was only going to lead to a life of misery or worse. So I shut off anything that wasn’t normal.”

            “Yet you agreed to take on a wizard into your home.” Harry inquired.

            “Well, I was painfully reminded that not everything out of the ordinary is bad.” Vernon chuckled. “A lot of it was thanks to your mother and father, actually, when they saved my life and your aunt’s a few months before Dudley was born.”

            “They did?” Harry made a face.

            “I don’t have the specifics, I was knocked out the fight pretty early, you’ll have to ask your aunt. I just know that your parents stopped those Death Eaters from killing us. Without them, we wouldn’t be here, I’m sure of it. After that, when Dudders was born, and I saw how much he looked like my older brother, I decided that maybe being different wasn’t a curse, so I named my son Dudley Malcom Dursley to remind myself of that. And then you showed up and pretty much cleared up any lingering feelings about my fears.” at that he faced Harry and pulled him into a side hug. “You are so special, my dear boy, I couldn’t ask for a better brother for Dudley than you, and you have proven time and time again that you are family. And I am so sorry for what Marge said to you, that was completely out of line and horrible, you deserve to love whomever is worthy enough to do it.”

            “Thank you, uncle Vernon. I couldn’t ask for a better father figure myself.” Harry replied, still hugging him. “And I’m sorry for how I reacted earlier, I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that.”

            “No, you were right to say those things.” Vernon said. “I don’t expect my boys to ever take a beating in their lives, and Marge had it coming for a long time. Not very happy on the death threats, though…” he tittered.

            “Us gays have a flair for the dramatic.” Harry joked as he extracted himself from the hug.

            “So long as that’s the last knife thrown in this household – wait, what are you wearing?” he finally saw his nephew properly, and he wasn’t in his nightwear, but was actually dressed up, shoes on and wearing his hoodie.

            This was what Harry had hoped to avoid earlier, but now there was no ignoring it. He stood up and made his trunk appear into view as he walked towards it.

            “I’m… uh…” the boy struggled for the right words. “I have decided it’s best if I leave for the time being.” he revealed.

            “But she leaves tomorrow…” Vernon tried to say.

            “I know.” Harry placated him, but didn’t dare look directly at him. “But it’s not for her benefit, it's for mine. I need some time on my own, to think and to figure some things out. I’ll stay at the Leaky Cauldron Inn for the rest of the holiday and then I’ll go straight to Hogwarts after that.”

            “Harry, please…” Vernon pleaded with him. “You don’t have to leave, your home is here, your family is…”

            “I know, uncle Vernon.” Harry said sadly. “I will always love you all and be grateful for the kindness you’ve shown me and all the lessons you’ve taught me. But I can’t stay here, not after what happened, not after your sister said all those things and I threw a deadly weapon at her. She’s still your family, and I can’t make you choose between us two.”

            “It sounds like you’re saying… _goodbye_.” Vernon realised.

            “I'm not sure” Harry said truthfully. “All I can say is that I have to leave for a while.”

            “Were you planning on letting anyone know you’re going?” Vernon looked pained. “Or did you just thought to sneak in the middle of the night while the rest of us slept? What about your aunt? She will be devastated if you just disappeared like that! And Dudley…”

            “Trust me, there’s nothing you can say that I haven’t already thought of.” Harry shook his head. “But I know how they’ll react, and I can’t deal with their pleas right now. You don’t have to agree with my choice…”

            “I most certainly don’t!” Vernon stood up, looking incredulous. “You’re telling me to just watch as one of my children leaves my home and doesn’t know if he’s coming back at all!”

            “I’m asking you to respect it.” Harry continued as if he wasn’t interrupted. “Please, uncle Vernon. For my sake.”

            Vernon slumped back down in his seat and placed rubbed his face in his palms. When he looked up at Harry, he never looked so tired and heartbroken as he did in that moment.

            “I know I can’t stop you and I know you too well to think you will reconsider… You’re as stubborn as your aunt when it comes to these things. But please, be _safe_. And if you need _anything_ , if something happens and you need help…” he said through the tears.

            “I will, I promise.” Harry said, taking his trunk by the handle. “And thank you again for… for everything.” he cast one last look to his uncle and went out the front door, disappearing into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, folks! Long time no see! But I'm back and now I've started the third book! 
> 
> First, let me start off by saying I'm sorry if Marge's words affected anyone in any way, that was done intentionally to portray the types of people that have spread their hate and bigotry and have contributed to decimating the LGBTQ+ community, and it may seem jarring to some, but for others it's a daily occurrence. 
> 
> I have been teasing just how awful Marge Dursley really is for two whole books, and now you finally get to see it AND you get to know what was that business with Petunia's friend, Naomi, something I've mentioned in passing back in Chapter 1. Yes, I have been building to this moment for two and a half years from that one sentence. 
> 
> I always knew Harry would have to leave like he does in canon, but this time it's more complicated than just "I hate it here", there are a lot of emotions he has to deal with. On that note, this book will deal with some things, emotional or otherwise, that are a bit heavy, just like in this chapter. The story takes a bit of a turn here, and we will end up somewhere very differently than canon for the duration of Prisoner of Azkaban. To quote Luke Skywalker, this will not go the way you think.
> 
> Also, if anyone was curious, I assign in my head songs to go with each book, as sort of a main theme song.  
> Book 1: Limp Bizkit - Take A Look Around  
> Book 2: Goldfrapp - Strict Machine (We Are Glitter Mix)  
> Book 3: Dresage - Sweet Dreams (A Wrinkle In Time Trailer Music)


	28. The Pain Of Leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's decision to leave Number Privet Drive gives him the room to breathe and think about things, even if those things aren't exactly pleasant. Unfortunately, there are always bigger things to worry about.

            He had thought about this moment a few times in his life. He didn’t do it actively, just that often his mind wandered to the possibility of it, about the circumstances it would happen in, about what he could do, where would he go – but never has he thought he would feel so… _Alone_.

            Harry carried his trunk with all his earthly possessions from number 4 Privet Drive down the empty street with a strange feeling in his gut. In less than 24 hours he had managed to destroy his aunt’s dinner, threaten an old woman with violence and render himself basically homeless. It had been arguably the worst day in his life, to hear that woman sprout her hate speech towards people like him, to see such enmity in her eyes for something so normal. Marge was never forward thinking, true, stuck in her ways, choosing the comfort of an old world as a means to deal with the loss she suffered as a child, but to see her unbridled hatred boiled Harry’s blood. And she even talked that way about her deceased _brother_ , a man that for all intents and purposes didn’t harm anyone, always looked after his siblings, always believed in love above all else, whose only crime was loving someone of the same sex. Harry had never met him, didn’t even know he existed until a few hours ago, and yet he felt a strong kinship towards Malcom Dursley. 

            No one, not even Voldemort himself had instilled such a rage in him before. The Dark Lord was evil, without a doubt, and undeserving of mercy after everything he had done, especially to Harry. But he always seemed _far-off_ , and fantastical in a way, an antagonistic entity that existed primarily as an antithesis to the boy. There was hatred between them, plenty to fill oceans, but he wasn’t the only victim of Riddle, countless more could say the very same. The only reason he was _special_ in his eyes was because Harry was among the very few who managed to stand up to him.

            But with Marge? That was _personal_. She was a woman that was supposed to love her family and yet brought it nothing but misery and pain and relished in it. She didn’t view Harry as an enemy, a threat, but as a _thing_ to be eradicated from the world. At least Voldemort had the decency to view Harry as human, as strange as it sounded.

            Perhaps this is how Muggleborns and Squibs feel, in a land of magic that doesn’t want to accept them. So far, Harry’s blood status protected him from it, and although he sympathised, it turned to empathy when faced with a hate speech towards a minority.

            His sexuality wasn’t something he had been ashamed of, nor afraid, just new and confusing at first. He hadn’t deliberately kept it from his friends after he came out to Dudley last year, but there hadn’t been the time or place, always something else to do, always another monster in the darkness waiting for them. He made a silent vow to himself then, to never try to hide it, deliberate or otherwise, but embrace it, make it a part of him and throw it in everyone’s face just to spite people like Marge. He was real. He was human. He was deserving of love and respect. And whomever felt otherwise would feel sorry.

           

            Harry stopped to examine the situation he was in for a brief moment. He was already a few neighbourhoods over, on a street that connected to Worplesdon Road, which then spilled into A3, which _could_ in theory take him on a direct path to London, but the sheer walking distance he would have to endure made him think otherwise. He could as well just go past the A3 and take the train from Guildford into London, but that would require that he sit around and wait for a few hours until the first train, and then spend about two more hours on the ride there, which, judging by the hour, would position him around 9 AM on Charring Cross Road. Admittedly preferable to the 6 hours it would take him on foot to reach the city, but a teenage boy with a heavy luggage all alone was bound to raise questions as he hung around an empty train station for hours.

            He sat down on the curb, blowing out a sigh. He couldn’t fly, either by his own or on his broom, even with the Invisibility Cloak. He could Apparate, in theory, wasn’t that hard to do, but beyond the safety of his house which allowed him to perform such a feat it was considered a crime, and he wasn’t about to plan his escape from Azkaban. He should’ve done it when he had the chance, not go out the door like he was in some sort of movie and that was his dramatic goodbye to his uncle, who could’ve _drove_ him if he thought to ask.

              Suddenly, a strange sensation crept up on him – a warm wind ghosting on him, tingling ever so slightly, so _faint_ it was almost intangible… It would’ve made him jump, if not for the fact that it was a familiar feeling, one that he grew accustomed to in recent years, the sensing of magic…

            Wait. Back the fuck up. _Magic_?! In _Little Whinging_?!?

            Harry’s gaze shot up immediately, prepared for anything. Someone or something performed an act of magic somewhere in his vicinity, and because he was supposed to be the only wizard around for kilometres, his strange ability to sense such things picked it up, likely because he wasn’t in Hogwarts, or Diagon Alley, or anywhere remotely magical. Then, another part of him, but this time more animalistic, primal, told him that there was a pair of eyes on him.

           

            In front of him, between the hedges of some park, there was a slight motion in the leaves, even though it wasn’t windy at all. Then, a glowing pair of yellow eyes, and Harry’s blood ran cold when he remembered a ghost’s word about such things, but then came in view the nose of a dog, only it was _huge_. A low, distant growl gave Harry all the reason he needed to use magic.

            He stood up, hand ready to drive the mutant stray dog away, but he tripped on his luggage with his left foot in his hurry to stand, and he fell backwards, right hand over his head as his magic sizzled out _weirdly_ , as if it contorted on itself before twirling up into a wall.

            A bright light shone from somewhere on the right and the claxon of a vehicle sounded off into the night, giving him more of a fright than the dog. It took a few seconds for his vision to recover from the bright spots, but a giant purple vehicle drove slowly in front of him, before coming to a stop.

            “Welcome to the Knight Bus, my name is Jane Turnbull and I’ll be… Hey, you alright?” said a girly voice from the steps of the famed wizarding bus.

            “Yeah… yeah I’m fine.” Harry groaned, standing up carefully this time, inspecting the newcomer. A young woman with short curly black hair and numerous freckles, dressed in a conductor’s outfit was hanging from the metal bar on the steps, standing with one foot in the air and regarding him with a wary look. “How did you know where to find me?”

            “Well… you called us.” Jane Turnbull pointed slowly towards something in the driver’s cabin, still looking at Harry weirdly, as if he was a bit touched in the head. “The magical signalling device beeped, at first we thought it was a malfunction, we never actually had one before, almost everyone uses a smartphone to reach the bus. You _did_ call us here, right?” she frowned. “Will?” she shouted at the driver. “Did you drove us in the wrong direction again?”

            “That was _one_ time during training and _no_!” came another womanly voice. “We’re at the right place!”

            “I did do _something_.” Harry intervened to calm the waters. “There was this black dog in the bushes back there, and I just wanted to get away, so…”

            “Right, then we are in business!” Jane clapped her hands enthusiastically. “Wait, what dog?” she dropped her smile and looked to the aforementioned bushes. “I don’t see anything.”

            “Must’ve run scared after you showed up. Thank you, for that.” Harry dressed his voice.

            God, was he _stupid_. Of course! What better way for an underage wizard to get anywhere? Magical Uber!

            “Alright, then if you’d step inside, we’ll take you wherever on the British Isles you want to be, I’ll take care of your… Oh my Merlin!” she climbed down but then put her hands over her mouth and stared at Harry intently with wide eyes. “You’re… You’re Harry Potter!” she gasped, and the driver, a woman around the same age, immediately pressed her face to the window. Harry felt like his rescue just became a trip to the zoo. “Oh my gosh, I’m such a big fan!”

            “Delighted.” Harry said awkwardly. “Can we… uh…”

            “Right, yes!” Jane jumped and flicked her wand at the trunk. “Please, right this Potter, mister way, I mean…” she stammered.

            “It’s just Harry, Jane.” Harry smiled at her as he climbed into the Knight Bus, which was now filled with beds, accompanied by few travellers which were thankfully asleep.

            “Oh, I’m such a mess…” Jane went red in the face as she made the trunk float into one of the shelves above.

            “Wilma Yusuf, pleasure to finally meet you!” the driver shook his hand.

            “Likewise, Will.” Harry greeted her. “I thought Stan Shunpike was the conductor of the bus.” he remembered.

            “Come now, Harry, there’s a few hundred thousand wizards in Britain, you’d think there wouldn’t be more than _one_ Knight Bus?” Will winked at him before resuming her position. “Where to?”

            “The Leaky Cauldron, please.” Harry said. “Where do I…?” he turned to Jane as the doors closed and they set in motion.

            “Oh!” the conductor shook her head. “Normally you’d pay through the app directly, but since you hailed us the old fashioned way, we have the card reader.” she gestured towards an epos on a block next to the door. “But you don’t have to pay, I mean, you’re _him_!” Jane gestured wildly.

            “I insist.” Harry placed his debit card on the reader, which signalled the transfer.

            “We have some stops before we get to yours, but if you’re in a hurry…” Jane said as Harry sat down on a bed.

            “Thank you, but I’m no rush now.” the boy said simply, staring out the window.

            “So what were you doing on the sidewalk?” Jane asked, crossing her arms and sitting in her chair next to the driver’s cabin.

            “Well, it was such a nice spot to lie down and look at the stars.” Harry drawled out.

            “Wait, really?” Jane made a face.

            “No, I tripped.” Harry chuckled. “But before I was sitting down for a moment, trying to think.” he continued as they travelled across the country side at top speed.

            “Everything all right? I don’t mean to pry, is just…” Jane stammered.

            “What my girlfriend is trying to ask is that if you’re in any trouble!” Will said over her shoulder.

            “Teenage rebellion. Nothing more.” Harry clicked his tongue as they stopped and an elderly woman was suddenly woken up by an alarm next to her bed, gathered her things and prompted to leave.

            “Oh, thank you, Jane dear!” she said as the woman carried her bags for her. “My word… Mister Potter?” she saw Harry. “Aura Corner, an absolute pleasure to meet you.” she took his hand between hers and smiled a wrinkly grimace at the boy. “My grandson tells me you’re quite the flyer on you Quidditch team.”

            “The pleasure is all mine.” Harry returned the sentiment. “And I have to be, I’m the Seeker after all.”

            “I used to play Beater, before these old bones started creaking like rusty hinges. You take care now, Mister Potter!” she added as she climbed down and went to the house they were parked in front of.

            “You too, Madam Corner!” Harry said lightly.

            “Must be a bit weird when people know you like that.” Jane said once they were back on track. “Sorry if I made things awkward earlier.”

            “It’s alright.” Harry shrugged. “You get used to it after a while.”

 

            Harry slept through most of the day in his room at the Leaky Cauldron. Tom, the innkeeper, had been startled last night as he was suddenly met with the Boy-Who-Lived carrying a large trunk and asking for the utmost discretion, while transferring literal thousands of galleons into the inn’s account, but the man offered him his most expensive suite and didn’t ask any questions.

            But it seemed that even with the numerous protection spells in place, someone had managed to find their way in, as his mattress was suddenly dropping and hands were upon him.

            “God dammit, Sleeping Beauty, wake the bloody hell up!” came a screeching voice.

            “What… wha – _Hermione_?” the boy woke with a start and found himself facing his best friend, frizzy hair and all; she wasn’t alone. “Nev? Han?” he looked around.

            “It’s all of us, Potter, stop with the counting.” Draco drawled out, crossing his arms, standing at the foot of his bed.

            “Do you have _any_ idea what you’ve put us through today?” Neville asked, furious look on his face. “We had to resort to asking Artpy to track you because you decided that _now_ would be a good time disappearing. It’s a good thing we have Dobby, otherwise we never would’ve gotten to you!”

            “I am _not_ in the mood for a bloody lecture, Neville!” Harry raised his voice. Everyone held their breath, because this was a first: Harry had never yelled at the other boy in the years they’ve known each other, not _once_. “Sorry, I’m so sorry, Nev, I shouldn’t…” Harry realised the tremendous error he did. “I’m sorry.” he finished lamely.

            “Harry, what happened to you?” Hannah sat next to him. “Why are you in the Leaky Cauldron?”

            “Marge happened.” Harry sniffed, recalling the terrible events. “I thought I had it under control, she would berate, I would shrug it off and pretend it never happened or reply something back, but it only served to infuriate her further. Last night, she got drunk and she broke – she started acting like I was a slave of some sort, Vernon had enough of it and asked her to stop treating me like a pest, she got angrier at me, Petunia started yelling, Dudley called her out and stormed off, and then _it_ happened…” Harry took a deep breath through the tears as he drew his knees up to his chest. “Marge accused them both of being enablers of _deviant_ behaviour because they allowed me to be there, as she was under the impression that I was a vile homosexual that needed to be put down.”

            Hermione gasped and looked visibly ill, and the rest didn’t look much better, each with their own shell-shocked expressions firmly in place. There was no stopping it now.

            “You can’t imagine what she said, _how_ she said it, like a vicious animal cornered, I don’t think I ever h-heard someone speak so hateful before.” Harry sobbed. “I just wanted it to s-stop, I just wanted her to s-shut up…”

            “Harry, did you…” Draco sat down with a horrified look about him.

            “No.” the boy shook his head. “But I wanted to. I wanted to kill her, to hurt her right back for what she was saying to me, _about_ me. It felt _horrible_ , that desire to utterly destroy someone out of pain. There wasn’t something at stake here, no one in actual danger, I had no excuse for it, and yet I _wanted_ it like nothing ever before, wanted to return the hurt she was…” he couldn’t continue.

            “Sweetie…” Hermione cupped his face in tears. “She wasn’t right. You _know_ she wasn’t right. Whatever she did or said means nothing.”

            “But is this how most of the world feels about gay people?” Harry cried. “Is this how… they feel about _me_?”

            “There is so much more _love_ than hate than you know, Harry.” Hannah took his hand. “I know it’s scary, and I know there are many people outside the wizarding community that act like your uncle’s sister. That doesn’t mean they’re right.”

            “You are loved, Harry.” Neville was the one who spoke this time. “You are so loved and special to us, this doesn’t change it, you’re our friend…”

            “You’re our _family_.” Draco finished for him. “And we will never stop caring for you no matter what. That old bint doesn’t know what she’s saying, because _clearly_ she doesn’t see the brave, selfless, extraordinary young man that I have the privilege of calling friend, brother even.”

            Harry couldn’t take it. He broke down, holding Draco tight against him, crying in his shoulder, as the rest gathered around them, and stood there, clinging to each other desperately.

            “You are one heart-warming son of a bitch when you want to be, Malfoy.” Hannah said, voice muffled in Harry’s left shoulder.

            “Love you too, Abbott.” Draco chuckled lightly.

            “Okay, okay…” Harry said after a minute and extracted from them all, wiping his tears. “Thank you all for your support, I can’t express how much it means to me that it doesn’t change things between us.” he regarded them all.

            “After the shit we’ve been through?” Neville barked a laugh. “Come now, Harry, you being attracted to boys isn’t important.”

            “No… No, it absolutely is.” the green-eyed boy decided. “It’s not the most interesting aspect of me, but it’s part of who I am. And it means the world that you accept me for who I am, completely.”

            “Well…” Hannah joked.

            “You know what I mean.” Harry pushed her lightly with his index finger.

            “Okay, so you’ve said you haven’t killed her, although I’m very much about to march over there and do it myself…”

            “ _Hermione_.” Neville gasped.

            “… But _why_ are you here?” the girl finished.

            “My anger got the better of me…” Harry calmed down and began explained.

            “Naturally.” came the simultaneous response from the rest, which made the boy scrunch up his face.

            “So I threw a knife at her head, which left her with a cut on her cheek, a _small_ one…” he said louder as the others looked ready to react, “and told her off.” he gestured lamely with his hand.

            “In one of your famous verbal threats that leave our enemies shaking in their shoes?” Hannah raised an eyebrow.

            “Beg pardon?” Harry did a double-take.

            “Oh, come on.” Hermione laughed. “You don’t realise that almost every time we face off something you have to add in a perfectly delivered threat as well? You nearly made Lockhart piss his pants last year at the greenhouses!”

            “I do _not_ …” Harry looked outraged before his traitorous mind supplied him with the memory. “Oh. I guess I do. Huh.”

            “Well, you were always a drama queen before.” Draco tittered.

            “Excuse you, I am the _queen_ of drama, thank you.” Harry joked.

            “Not a queen… A Khaleesi.” Neville intoned.

            “You watch Game of Thrones?” Hannah asked him.

            “Back on track!” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Then what happened?” she redirected her attention at the raven-haired boy.

            “Well, after I gave her one of my deadly promises, I packed my things, said goodbye to my uncle and left. I couldn’t stay there, not after what happened. Marge crossed a line, and she and her brother will not be speaking to one another for quite some time, but I was the one who caused it and I can’t be in the middle of it anymore.” Harry sighed.

            “You think there is any chance they’ll forgive her?” Draco frowned.

            “I don’t really know. Petunia and Dudley, never. Vernon might, although I find it hard to believe after what she said about their older brother. In any case, I’ve attacked someone in their own home and made them feel unsafe. And I also felt unsafe and unwelcome there after it happened, even though it’s not their fault, I just feel…”

            “Like you need some space.” Neville nodded. “Trust me, I know how it feels. But next time, at least give us a heads up.” he felt the need to say again.

            “It’s been a few hours!” Harry rolled his eyes. “What could’ve happened while I was out?”

            They all looked at him with disbelief and then at each other, then slowly back at him. It was Draco who first made a move, raising both his eyebrows in realisation, stupefied.

            “Oh, he had his phone turned off this whole time.” the blond spoke quietly.

            “Wait, wait, wait, wait….” Hannah gestured. “He doesn’t _know_?!”

            “Know what?” Harry said exasperatedly, but Hermione already took the liberty of turning on the TV.

            The news came on, or at least the wizarding news, presented by a charming fellow called Nathaniel Pucey, Adrian Pucey’s cousin, dressed in a blue suit and green tie. Harry never much payed attention to the magical networks, and his news consisted of Hoots and other live-feeds that he could get on his phone, so this was a first to him. It looked very much like a regular newsroom, if one could ignore the odd witch or wizard in the background doing magic at irregular intervals for all sorts of things, like organising files, repairing things, flying coffee mugs and the like.

            “ _… – Auror taskforce has been granted permission to kill on sight if they encounter the former prisoner, as he has been deemed dangerous and unstable. At the moment there is no indication about how such a feat was performed and no evidence of aid. We now go live to the Ministry of Magic, where Minister Fudge is holding a press conference._ ”

            The image changed to the Atrium of the Ministry, with Cornelius Fudge himself on a podium, surrounded by dozens of reporters, in front of a giant golden statue of some kind.

            _“Earlier last night there was an incident in Azkaban prison, resulting in the escape of one of the most dangerous Dark Wizards known. He is deranged and willing to kill, and I stand before you today to urge everyone to stay safe, and if you have any information at all, do not hesitate to call the authorities through our special hotline. I will investigate the matter thoroughly, and I will see to it that Sirius Black is brought to justice –”_

           

            The screen cracked in an instant as if hit by an invisible punch, making everyone jump. Harry clutched the sheets and looked with a horrified expression at the now silent device.

            “ _Him_?” he intoned. “Black escaped prison? How did this happen?”

            “That’s the thing, no one has a clue.” Neville said carefully. “ _Reparo_.” he pointed at the TV, which for a moment looked like it might repair itself, but then it cracked back.

            “Sorry, my magic has a habit of sticking lately, especially accidental one.” Harry explained as he got out of the bed, wiggled his fingers and restored the screen fully this time.

            “Interesting, you’re saying that your powers are suddenly developing the ability to instil permanent effects unless there is an equal or greater force to stop it?” Draco mused.

            “Yeah, sort of.” Harry made a weird face at him. “Okay, how did Voldemort’s right-hand man escape prison?” he sighed and rubbed his nose bridge. “One would think such a person would be under the most secure measure of containment!”

            “He was.” Hannah spoke out of turn, and everyone’s eyes were upon her. “Do you remember my aunt Bedelia?”

            “The one that works in the Office of Magical Transportation and has a strange fixation with brooms, yes.” Harry replied, not sure where she was going with this.

            “When she first started at the Ministry she was training to be an Unspeakable, but she transferred out at the last minute, saying it wasn’t for her. However, during that time she worked with a team on various methods on stopping the magic of a wandlesser if they are arrested.”

            “I can see why it wasn’t for her.” Draco chortled. “Unspeakables tend to _not_ speak, pun intended.”

            “So Black is a wandlesser?” Neville gathered.

            “Yes.” Hannah continued in a grave tone. “They have Null on his cell, in his food and water, and he is injected with it once a week with a concentrated dose. In case he escapes confinement, they are able to track him down and put a stop to him way before it’s out of his system.”

            “That’s a bit barbaric.” Hermione scrunched up her face. “I mean, Dementors on top of Nulls _injected_ into him?”

            “It’s not doing any harm to him physically, and it burns out of someone’s system quickly, especially if the individual is exceptionally powerful.” Hannah explained. “I’m guessing he starved himself something fierce, given that prisoner meals contain the exact number of proteins to last him to the next.”

            “Dehydration would kill him in three days tops, given that he isn’t in the best of conditions.” Neville theorised.

            “Okay!” Harry put up his hands. “I don’t need this. _We_ don’t need this! We just took down an ancient beast controlled by the memory of the Dark Lord not even five months ago!”

            “Your point?” Draco asked, confused at the outburst.

            “I’m saying we’re not dealing with this one.” Harry declared, which was apparently the wrong thing to say, because they all spoke to him at once.

            “He’s a _murderer_ …!”

            “He sold out your parents…!”

            “He’s going to want revenge for his master…!”

            “No!” Harry repeated firmly, shutting them up. “We have enough on our plate what with the Guardian, the Protector, who is R, how does this all connect and why. Let the Aurors find him and take him down, we’re not going after this one! We don’t even know if he’s going for me after twelve years. If he does, we’ll take him down, no question, but we are _not_ going to actively search for the lunatic. He’s of no concern.”

            “The man is the only one in history that broke out of the most secure prison in Britain, how is this no concern?” Hermione looked at him like he grew two heads.

            “And I have a magical _staff_ capable of taking down a basilisk, what’s _one_ man going to do?” Harry groaned and started to change into his day clothes. “Aren’t your families going to miss you guys?”

            “No. Unlike some people, we actually talk things out with our parents, and Hermione literally lives a few Tube stations away.” Hannah puffed. “Except Neville, who I’m assuming followed in your footsteps and just left out the door.”

            “Charming.” Harry made a face at her.

 

            News of Sirius Black’s escape spread faster than light through the wizarding community. Everyone was suddenly on edge at the thought of a mass-murderer and traitor being among them. Posters hanged at every turn with the man’s face with numbers underneath for anyone who had information.

            But Harry chose to spend his energy on other things, like finishing on his school work, researching with Artpy and the gang, and figuring out what training for Ginny was going to be once they reached September. Black was certainly on his list of things to be wary about, the man did sell out his friends to the Dark Lord and cemented their fates, but the same could be said about many other people under his command. And as long as he was in Hogwarts, he was safe. He had the Map, the Room and his friends.

            Now, _how_ he did it was a hotly debated matter across all form of media. Hooting had been trending #BlackEscapeTheories for days as the number one worldwide most used hashtag. Of course, it also brought in a plethora of clickbait articles from _The Daily Prophet_ , _Nightly Owl_ and the such. Magical YouTube had dozens of videos about it. Hermione insisted on perusing them all, but she quickly learned that people had no idea whatsoever about how the first escape from Azkaban came to be. The prison was a fortress with heavy reinforced walls, Null Zones on every corner, _Dementors_ , every detector known to man, and on top if it the prison was on an island in the middle of the North Sea. Aside from government officials that promised investigations, no other news of the man came to light, except for the few panicked sightings all over the country, which at one point meant that two different wizards saw Black in two different spots at the same time. These were certainly interesting times they were living.

 

            Draco, Hannah and Hermione were brought back in their homes with the help of Dobby, who got them to Harry in the first place. Neville, however, chose to remain at the inn, seeing as he and his grandmother weren’t on the best of terms lately, and was now staying in a room across from Harry’s.

            It was already late August, a week before they were to board the Hogwarts Express on the 31st. The boy was currently studying various tales and legends from all over the world about men and women with strange powers that appeared from nowhere and disappeared shortly thereafter. He had brought in a few of those classroom wooden boards for pinning papers on it and was trying to organise somewhat, when a knock on the door interrupted him.

            “You could just come in, Neville!” Harry said over his shoulder with mock-exasperation.

            Neville opened the door, with some difficulty, as he had a bag in one hand that he was holding from the bottom, and two cups in a holder in the other. Harry took pity on him and sent them floating on the table with a whip of his hand. It was a wonder he could knock in the first place.

            “Well, what if you’re doing something _untoward_?” Neville snorted. “Besides, it’s your room, I can’t just barge whenever I’d like.”

            “If I was having a wank you wouldn’t be able to knock in the first place.” Harry clicked his tongue, placing another page into his webbed mess, as Neville unpacked his bags, producing sandwiches and walking over to Harry to hand him over his cup of coffee. “Thank you, I’ve been up since dawn.” the boy said gratefully, drinking the sweetened liquid. Never it be left said that Harry took his coffee black, that stuff was _vile_.

            “So what are you working on?” Neville took a bite of his sandwich and looked over the boards.

            “Trying to piece together what we know of the Guardian, or Protector, or Defender as they’re referenced through several accounts. I’m trying to determine a working timeline of sorts.” he indicated towards the string that changed colour once it reached a new pin. “It’s a mess, so I’m holding off on looking through Muggle ones right now.” Harry sipped his coffee.

            “So it’s multiple people, witches and wizards from the entirety of history?” Neville looked deep in thought.

            “The earliest record I’ve found even remotely connected was from this tablet from Ancient Egypt, sometime after the Narmer unification. It spoke of a Champion of Ra, the sun god, that would save the world from Seth and restore Osiris to the throne.”

            “You can read hieroglyphs?” Neville made a face.

            “I don’t have a supercomputer for nothing.” Harry chuckled. “Anyway, the Champion apparently succeeded, aided with a sceptre from Isis, made from the head of a large beast. Remind you of something?”

            “Your staff.” Neville agreed. “So you’re tracking whoever had it.”

            “Yes, but it’s more complicated than you’d think.” Harry sighed and took his beef sandwich.

            “More complicated than weaselling out figures of myth and legend across the world over to see if they are related?” Neville asked.

            “Besides that, yes.” Harry spoke with his mouth full before swallowing. “Not all of them have it, there are instances where these people don’t have this weapon at their disposal.”

            “Maybe it got lost?” Neville tried.

            “No.” Harry shook his head. “See the black lines? That’s when the Guardian has the staff or whatever. It’s the only thing that’s consistent and has a direct timeline. The Guardians themselves appear at random, earlier iterations appearing more powerful than later ones, vice-versa, doesn’t make any sense or have any order, but the staff always exists, up until the Protector in 1099 A.D.”

            “So you’re thinking that there’s a reason why not all of them have it? Is it even the same one?” Neville thought.

            “Artpy tried to pinpoint an origin for it, but all she got it’s that it’s really old, before she nearly fried herself from direct contact with the interface. There are some magical things that not even technology can process.” Harry replayed the memory of almost shutting down his AI. “I’m not about to risk in again.”

            “Yeah, only if you want Draco to murder you for killing the most advanced artificial intelligence on the planet.” Neville pointed out.

            “ _As a computer, I cannot experience death, Mister Longbottom._ ” Artpy took it as an excuse to mouth off from their phones.

            “Semantics, my dear.” Harry said affectionately, sitting down at the table, trying to calm down his brain from hours upon hours of research.

            “Here’s a question for you.” Neville started as he sat opposite of his friend.

            “Go ahead.” Harry motioned him as he ate his sandwich with gusto.

            “Did you talk to your family at all since coming here? I know it’s been a few weeks.” the boy looked at him with concern.

            Harry stopped momentarily as he stared into Neville, before putting down the meal and looked pointedly elsewhere.

            “I have.” the answer came.

            “And?” Neville would not let go.

            “They’re fine.” the boy replied.

            “Yes, I’m sure they are.” Neville crossed his arms and looked unimpressed. “Can’t imagine they’d be anything else but okay with the fact that a member of their family just up and _left_ their home without so much as a warning.”

            “Says the bloke who walked out on his grandmother.” Harry retorted.

            “Difference is, I can’t stand her, while you love your relatives.” Neville was quick to point out.

            “What do you want me to say?” Harry gave up. “That uncle Vernon keeps texting me to see if I’m alright? That Petunia leaves me voicemails, crying her heart out? That Dudley won’t even _speak_ to me? Or the fact that there is a large part of me that doesn’t feel guilty for leaving?”

            “Do you? Not feel guilty, I mean.” Neville asked calmly.

            Harry sighed and sat lower in his seat. “Of course I feel bad that they’re hurt, but I don’t regret my decision, and what’s worse is that I feel _good_ that I’m away from them. They’re great people, they love and support me, but it’s just that I can be completely myself here, not having to hide most of my powers or lie about what’s going on at school and I have this…”

            “Sense of freedom?” Neville finished for him. “Yes, I know what you mean. My situation is totally opposite of yours, so I don’t care if grandmother is hurt, if she even cares. But the one good thing is that I get to be myself and not fear judgment from her. Does that make sense?”

            “It does, actually. My family is okay with magic, they love it when it’s helpful, but you didn’t see the fear in their eyes when I nearly speared Marge with the butcher knife. I know it wasn’t okay of me to do it, but I’ve never seen them so terrified of me before. And it’s not just that, but when it gets a little out of control and I break something by accident, they look at me warily the whole day.” Harry ranted. “Like I’m something that could hurt them. And I don’t want them to look at me that way. I could never do that to them. But I guess Marge was the last straw.”

            “I get it. Grandmother acted the same the moment I started standing up for myself more; I didn’t like being under her thumb or her ridiculous desire to be like my father.” Neville looked tired and far away.

            “No offense, but your grandmother is a bitch.” Harry said immediately.

            Neville cackled loudly. “Yes, she is, and a control freak, if I don’t behave exactly as she wants, then I’m a failure. But I’d rather be a failure than a puppet. I’ve seen what happens to people who blindly follow others.”

            “Uh…” Harry made a vague gesture between them.

            “Not _you_!” Neville brushed it off. “We constantly _question_ you, and each other, it’s a partnership, not a dictatorship. We _elected_ you as our leader because we thought that you’re capable of doing it, making the hard decisions and guiding the way.”

            “When was this election and why I was not invited?” Harry laughed incredulously.

            “Sometime after Quirrell.” Neville made a face as he tried to remember. “We talked with one another and decided unanimously that you’re the group leader. It was a no-brainer, really.” he shrugged.

            “Well, I know who would’ve had my vote.” Harry said nonchalantly, drinking his beverage.

            “Hermione was my second choice as well.” Neville revealed, but the pointed look in Harry’s eyes made him rethink that statement. “Hang on… _me_?” his voice went unusually high.

            “Who else?” Harry looked at him like it was supposed to be obvious.

            “Harry, I’m not capable of _leading_ anyone! If I lead, bad things would happen, like suddenly we’re in a fight and we forgot our pants because of me!” the other sputtered.

            “I’m sure you’d be alright. Besides,” and at this Harry’s tone turned serious, “if something happens to me, then you’ll have to be the one to take charge.”

            “Merlin’s _knickers_ , did you…? The emergency transference protocols on Artpy, am _I_ your second-in-command?” Neville was aghast.

            “Yes, because I have faith in you that you will do the right thing in case I’m not there.” Harry said firmly, but then noticed something peculiar. “Your bacon is on fire.” he deadpanned.

            Neville went red in the face. “Oh, um, thank you, I have worked out and I suppose my posterior is a bit more…”

            “No, I mean _literally_.” Harry stopped him, but the oncoming vision in his head about Neville’s arse was already pinned for the rest of time. “Your sandwich is burning.” he gestured towards the snack in front of them. Neville then struggled to put the fire he had inadvertently caused in his meal, to the amusement of his friend.

 

            The day before they were set to leave for the school, Ginny and her family arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, all nine Weasleys dressed in lighter wear than the famous UK weather would permit. Harry and Neville encountered her the moment they stepped in from the flames in the dining hall downstairs.

            “Hi, guys!” she ran to them and gripped them tight.

            “Hey! How was Egypt?” Harry smiled from ear to ear.

            She looked a thousand times better now, a little taller and less likely to bend under a strong wind, and her complexion under the sun did wonders for her.

            “It was _amazing_!” she recounted her wonderful vacation. “That prize money dad won was put to great use, we got to see the ancient pyramids, the tombs... Mum nearly had a meltdown when she realised just how dangerous Bill’s job is.” she laughed.

            “Bill…?” Harry tried to keep up.

            “Oh, the eldest. He’s the one with the dragon tooth earring, leather boots, ponytail and looking like he came out of a Kiss music video back in the seventies.” Ginny gestured to a tall, handsome man with her parents. “He’s a curse breaker for Gringotts.”

            “Well, I simply have to meet him, then.” Harry said.

            “Really? Oh, wait, I’ll go over and introduce you, one second.” the girl said happily and ran off back to her family.

            Neville, however, merely slapped Harry with the back of his hand on the shoulder.

            “What?” Harry looked shocked, but Neville made his usual expression of ‘you-know-what’. “It’s not what you think.” he tried defending himself.

            “Did you or did you not send Ginny a phone so that she could take pictures of ancient Egyptian tablets that talk about a previous Guardian?” Neville confronted him.

            “No! I would never do something of the sort! It was a coincidence, I swear, I promised her a new one ages before!”

            “But the fact that they _were_ in Egypt in the first place?” Neville countered.

            Harry said nothing, but the tips of his ears went red, and went to greet the Weasleys.

            “Hello, Harry my dear!” Mrs. Weasley grabbed him into a bone crushing hug. “And is that Neville? Oh, you boys are growing up so _fast_ , look at you!” she inspected him with motherly eyes.

            “Leave the poor boy some room to breathe, Molly.” Mr. Weasley chuckled and patted Harry on the shoulder. “Everything all right, Harry?”

            “Yes, I am.” Harry said. “Thank you for the cake, that was lovely. Although I must warn you that Hannah swears she will get the recipe for it.”

            Mrs. Weasley was obviously flattered by that. “I’m afraid that is a family recipe, dear, no amount of pleading can get it from me.”

            “Somehow I doubt that it will stop Hannah Abbott.” Harry said, partly joking, partly preparing for that situation. “Ron, nice to see you again.” he greeted the Gryffindor once he came into view, carrying a few bags with him.

            “You too.” he _hugged_ Harry to the surprise of everyone. “Thank you again for saving Ginny.” he whispered in his ear, before retreating.

            “Well, it wasn’t any trouble…” Harry stammered, red in the face from embarrassment.

            “Ron, have you seen my…” Ginny interrupted him.

            “Here, I had a feeling you would need it.” Ron produced a jumper from his rucksack, a Chudley Cannons one, bright orange and made of wool.

            “Oh.” Ginny looked stunned. “Thank you.” she took it from his hands and put in on. “Harry, this is Bill. Bill, this is…” she gestured towards the eldest Weasley son.

            “I think I know who he is, Gin.” the man winked at her and shook Harry’s hand. “Nice to finally meet you. I hear I have you to thank for saving my little sister.”

            “I… You’re welcome, but it was a team effort, I didn’t do it alone.” Harry felt a bit like a fish out of water for some reason.

            “ _Ahem_.” Neville dressed his voice only for Harry to hear.

            “Neville…” Harry said louder, letting go of Bill’s hand, “was also there to help.” he pushed the boy forward.

            “Thank you as well.” Bill greeted him. “I hope I’m not intruding, but can I ask why my sister has been taking pictures of things through the tombs? I know it’s not for her benefit, she isn’t that big a fan of history.” he turned to Harry.

            “I’ve always been fascinated with ancient civilisations, and when she wrote to me that she’s in Egypt I asked if she could take some photos for me.” Harry lied rather convincingly. “Charlie!” he changed subjects, startling the Dragonologist. “How’s Norberta?”

 

            The arrival of the Weasleys left Harry smiling for hours. It was good, to see this family together and happy after the Chamber happened. Ron had made good on his vow to be a better brother, Ginny was freer and lighter, and the rest just seemed relieved to be with one another. Charlie, working in Romania and Bill being on active duty for Gringotts all the time, while the rest of the children were in Hogwarts meant that they didn’t catch up with each other much, so it was good to see Mrs. Weasley caring for all her children, while Mr. Weasley tried to keep up with her. It was endearing, in a way, but it also reminded Harry that he had alienated his family.

            Since they didn’t have the time before, the children still in school had to purchase their books and supplies. Percy was made Head Boy, to the surprise of absolutely no-one, so he received special treatment, consisting of an entirely new wardrobe to wear his shiny new badge. The twins were mocking him _mercilessly_ for that one, but for some reason Percy didn’t seem to care, too caught up with the fact that his dreams came true.

            Harry, Neville, Ginny and Ron were waiting for the rest of Harry’s gang at Florean’s, eating their ice-creams in peace. They also needed their supplies for the new school year, so they agreed to go shopping together, but for some reason they were taking their sweet time doing it.

            “I wish you wouldn’t bring your rat to when we’re eating, Ron.” Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother feeding something to his pocket.

            “What’s that now?” Harry choked on his vanilla ice-cream.

            “Oh, this is Scabbers!” Ron enthusiastically said as he took out from his pocket a creature no bigger than his hand, but the rat looked thin and his fur was patchy in some places, and kept trembling. “Or used to be, at any rate. He’s seen better days. Egypt did him some good, gave back some of his colour, but ever since we came back…”

            “Ron, he is _old_.” Ginny said as sensibly as she could. “Twelve years is a long time. Maybe…”

            “I don’t want to think about it.” Ron shook his head. “I’ve asked Hermione if she could bring me some tonic for him from the Magical Menagerie… Where…?” he turned around.

            Just in time, as the rest of Harry’s friends arrived, with for some reason Hannah doing most of the heavy lifting. Draco was walking with his hands in his pockets, but Hermione held a cage in her arms and kept talking to it.

            “Hi, guys!” Hannah huffed tiredly as she sat down, placing the bags at her feet. “Okay, treats for Hedwig,” she started throwing things on the table, “food for Trevor, treats for…”

            “Um.” Harry and the rest of the original table party said at the same time, looking pointedly at Hermione, who took her sweet time in realising she was watched. “What are you doing?”

            “Well… I just couldn’t leave him there! Hermione cried, making everyone look confused, save for Hannah and Draco who just rolled their eyes. “You should’ve seen it, he was isolated and miserable, and the shopkeeper said that no one wanted him, and I just…”

            The contents of the girl’s cage suddenly _hissed_ dangerously at Ron and his rat, which squeaked fearfully and tried to run away, only his owner had quicker reflexes than it seemed.

            “What the bloody…” Ron struggled to keep a wriggling Scabbers in his grasp for a few dangerous seconds. “Did you get a _cat_?” he turned to Hermione, who suddenly paled.

            “Oh my god, you have Scabbers who’s sick and I just brought… I’m so sorry, Ron, I didn’t think…” Hermione stammered.

            “No, it’s fine, just a fair _warning_ next time, please.” Ron huffed tiredly and took his tonic. “I’ll leave you all to it. It’s _fine_ , Hermione!” Ron placated her. “I had to go anyway, I was just waiting for you. Just… don’t let that cat catch Scabbers, please.” he said with finality, putting Hermione’s worries to rest and left with a wave to the others.

            “So…” Ginny dressed her voice. “Do we get to meet the little fellow?” she asked, and Hermione remembered to turn the cage towards them.

            Inside there was the most orange cat on the planet, fluffed up fur and a flat face with a perma-scowl firmly planted on it. Something about the animal’s eyes said something to Harry, but couldn’t really place it.

            Neville, however, started howling with laughter the second he lay eyes on the creature, earning them strange looks from the other patrons.

            “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” Neville gasped for air, red in the face. “Did you… Did you just get the Grumpy Cat?” he heaved.

            “His name is Crookshanks and he isn’t _grumpy_ , he just looks that way.” Hermione blushed.

            “CROOKSHANKS, I CAN’T!” Neville lost it, slamming on the table, tears in his eyes. “Look at his little face! How is it so…” he couldn’t continue, laughter taking over completely. “Help, I can’t breathe!”

            “Okay, relax, Longbottom, before you perforate a lung or something.” Draco tried to calm down his friend.

            “I’m happy for you, Hermione.” Harry tried to talk over Neville’s dying laughter. “He looks a bit cross, but I’m sure he isn’t all the time.”

            “This is nice and all, but I thought you all asked me to be here to discuss something important.” Ginny tried to cover up her excitement.

            “I did, yes.” Harry sighed and sat straight in his seat.

            “What is she talking about?” Neville asked what everyone was thinking, finally sobered up.

            “I didn’t tell you guys this, but last term I agreed to help Ginny work out her fears of being helpless when faced with the unknown. And after the Chamber happened, I think we can all agree that’s something we desperately need. We were lucky, to say the least, that the basilisk didn’t kill us.” Harry explained.

            “I’d like to think _some_ skill was involved.” Draco crossed his arms, looking put out.

            “To a point.” Hannah raised an eyebrow. “Harry’s right, the fact that we were better prepared saved us, but we also got lucky. We were down by two most of the time, it’s astonishing we managed the few minutes that we did. Not to mention the fact that Dumbledore’s phoenix showed up and gave us an edge.”

            “I’ve been doing some thinking ever since Ginny came to me for help.” Harry addressed them once again. “I already accepted her request, it seemed right after what happened, but it got me thinking; what if we need backup? Like Hannah said, we were down by two, I was out and so was Hermione, the five of us could’ve probably destroyed the basilisk easier, but if we were _six_ …”

            “Hang on, you want to include me into your group?” Ginny did a double take. “I’m flattered, really, but I don’t have ancient magical powers nor am I a wandlesser like you all are! I’m just… _normal_.” she shrugged awkwardly.

            “I think you do yourself too little credit.” Harry was quick to shot her insecurities down. “Remember, you actually managed to break free of Riddle’s control at the height of the attacks. Not a lot of people can say they stood up to the Dark Lord while in their teens and _live_ ; the only ones are at this table.” he gestured around. “But I’m afraid I come with a bit of a warning.” the boy turned serious. “We can help you, train you, and you can be on your way, absolutely no problem with that. And no one would blame you. We get into some dangerous stuff ourselves, we do things we shouldn’t do because no one is willing to, and it’s crazy and weird, and we have some things going for us that have no explanation for, like the fact that I’m this thing called…”

            “The Guardian.” Ginny finished for him in a weird voice, looking out in the distance.

            “Come again?” Hermione blinked several times.

            “I saw you.” Ginny spoke towards Harry, trying to remember, and Harry stared right back at her. “In that place where Riddle brought us to die, that empty black space of _nothing_.” she shuddered a bit. “You were far away, and I couldn’t reach you and you couldn’t hear me. You looked like you were talking with someone, but I didn’t see anybody else. But there was one thing I did hear, right before it all shook and broke… _Guardian_.”

            Harry just nodded, while the rest looked in awe at the both of them. Never did it occur to them that Ginny would’ve been in the same place as Harry in his mindscape, or that it wasn’t _his_ mindscape, rather a world made by Voldemort to kill them off.

            “Yes. You will come to realise that there are things about this group that aren’t exactly _coincidental_ or obvious, even to us. I can’t promise your safety if you agree to join for more than just training, but to help us in fighting against those who would do harm. What I can promise is that you will have friends that will always be there to support you and help you, no matter what. The occasional bickering aside, that is.” Harry chuckled.

            “You all saved my life last term.” Ginny said, looking at them all. “And as much as I want your help, I want to do the same in return, not out of obligation, but because… I want to do it. I want to help like you do and go on adventures and solve mysteries…”

            “It’s often frustrating, mind you.” Draco checked his nails. “It’s not as glamorous as it seems, sometimes there’s weeks of no answers.”

            “ And also the mortal danger we face on the monthly.” Neville remembered fondly.

            “The fights, the sneaking around, the illegal activities…” Hermione counted on her fingers.

            “Not to mention that the boss is this bitchy diva with temper issues.” Hannah mock whispered to the redhead.

            “What they’re trying to say…” Harry put a stop to the antics. “Is that it’s not easy, but we can get things done.”

            “I’m in. One-hundred percent. I want to kick ass like you all do.” Ginny jumped in her seat.

            “Any objections?” Harry turned to the group.

            “Wait, we _have_ those?” Draco made a face. “Actual voices in the decisions you make? Perish the thought! What timeline is this?” he looked around theatrically.

            “Then I guess you’re in, Ginevra Molly Weasley.” Harry smiled at her.

            “Awesome!” she hugged the boy. “Also, call me Ginevra again and I’ll break your nose.” she threatened with a straight face.

            “Oh, she’s one of us alright.” Neville laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies. Sorry to have kept you waiting, I had some trouble with keeping up my inspiration for the last few weeks and just needed a breather, but know that I will always come back to write some more, because I love you guys.
> 
> Now, this chapter is a bit also on the emotional side, Harry deals with the aftermath of his leaving and wants only to surround himself with people that he feels safe around. It's stated that it's not that he has a problem with the Dursleys, God no, it's that he feels different from them, they can't know what it's like for him, as a wizard, as a gay person, as an orphan, and when Marge happened, he simply said 'Okay, I don't feel great here anymore, I need time for myself' because it's not easy being 13 and knowing there are people that will want you eradicated from the world for something as stupid as just being different. 
> 
> Luckily for him, he has a support group, his friends, and now Ginny will join the gang! Oh, the plans I have in store for them. Let me tell you right now, she is something else. And what???? That place where R and Harry talked wasn't actually in the boy's head??? Ginny was there??? Could this come up again???
> 
> The answer is yes. I've actually planned the entire third book from that one thing. Sirius isn't the main focus this time around, although I promise he will feature. But the thing is, if you thought the previous book was hard on them.... Oh, boy.


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